


Adventures in a Realm Without Divorce Court

by The_Winter_Straw



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Mildly Explicit, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2020-06-25 13:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19746808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Winter_Straw/pseuds/The_Winter_Straw
Summary: It was supposed to be a standard Vegas trip: drinking, gambling, a night out on the town with your best friend, Jane. A bit too much of the first has you pass out–through your entire wedding! Waking up to find yourself married to your best friend’s boyfriend? Not that great. Even worse? He’s not from Earth, not by a long shot. Worse still? They don’t believe in divorce in his Realm, and you never wanted to be a princess.In response to the “A Twist on ‘I Do’” challenge by Aqua4044 on Lunaescence Archives.





	1. The Makings of Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a silly, rather contrived story for you! I tried "pantsing," and now I'm lost. This won a poll on Quotev for being the next story I work on, though, so I'll be sitting down and outlining the rest of it soon. Still, even what I've got is better than the outline I first wrote during my finals for grad school, which had-I kid you not-multiple chapters that just said "develop the plot."
> 
> Past!Me really likes to throw me under a bus. Especially since I started this back in 2013, well before _The Dark World_ came out.

Never before had you been so thrilled to see the sign that welcomed you back to your home state of New Mexico. As your rented, bright red convertible hummed across the the asphalt, you kept your gaze fixed on the haze of purple mountains shimmering on the horizon. The wind whipped through your hair. The flat, gray street beneath your wheels remained empty. You allowed your eyes to slide shut for only a moment; heavy sunshine made the inside of your lids glow red. A gentle swerve had you paying attention again, though you lifted your head ever so slightly to breathe in the breeze and the smell of hot, baked earth. Now, truly, everything was behind you: your fiancé’s cold feet, your abandoned apartment, your notice of resignation to the school president, and the feelings of disappointment and pity strewn among each. 

In front of you lay the Land of Enchantment, the land of dirt, the land of sunshine and heat waves coming off the pavement and low shrub bushes covering the flat mesas by the side of the road. Some people might not have found the environment beautiful–you certainly would not have in your youth–but the drastic shift was a welcome change from New England. It was something of a relief knowing those mountains would not get much nearer, and that Jane’s town promised more heat and the color brown. Anything to keep your mind off…Well, anything to keep your mind off much of anything, really. 

You wanted a weekend without thinking. Your knuckles tightened around the steering wheel momentarily, and then you released a long breath as you cranked up the radio. Just a few days ignoring the twinges, and you’d start planning what you were going to do with your life afterward. 

“Forget it,” you crooned to yourself under your breath. The gas pedal shifted underneath your right foot. Soon the landscape blurred behind you and your voice lifted into the air. You’d figure it all out eventually: where you would live, where you would work, who you would remain in contact with. 

For the time being, it was just you–you and the open road. 

******

The headquarters of one Dr. Jane Foster was in an usual flurry of activity. It would have to be, seeing how small it was and how many people were then inside it. Jane herself had to admit that even she was starting to feel overwhelmed, between Thor’s presence, his friend arguing with Darcy, and Dr. Selvig whispering warnings in her ear while she looked over her instruments one last time before her weekend getaway. 

“Jane, I’m not certain that this is a good idea.” 

She kept her eyes focused on the reading she was trying to get while she tried to figure out another reason that Dr. Selvig was, as usual, being a mother hen. Jane knew he meant well, but when she’d asked him to watch her things while she was away, she didn’t think he was going to be _quite_ so upset about her bringing Thor along. 

“Why?” she asked as she pushed some hair behind her ear and continued moving. Dr. Selvig sighed and came to a stop; Jane had to turn around to catch his answer: 

“Because he just doesn’t understand these sorts of things.” 

Jane shot a look toward the other end of the room, where Thor was leaning against the wall, watching Darcy triple-check her luggage. When he caught Jane looking at him, he grinned broadly, but soon turned his attention elsewhere. Only once she knew that Thor wasn’t listening did Jane say, “He’s not stupid, Erik.” 

He sighed again. “I’m not saying he _is_. I’m just saying he’s not from around here and Vegas is enough of a trap for people from _Earth_.” 

With a roll of her eyes, Jane decided to end the fretting right then and there. She looked back over at Thor and, lifting her voice, called “Hey, Thor!” 

“Yes, Jane?” 

“You promise you won’t get into any trouble while we’re there? That you’ll ask me questions if you don’t understand something?” 

“Of course.” 

Jane turned back to Dr. Selvig with her eyebrows raised. Clearly, Dr. Selvig got the message: _Is that good enough for you_? But apparently it wasn’t, because he shook his head. “Oh, come _on_ , Erik! He’s saved the world twice now, what more do you want him to do to prove himself?” 

“Not get anyone killed while you’re on vacation,” Dr. Selvig answered. “Of course he won’t do anything on purpose, Jane! But that doesn’t mean that nothing will _happen_.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” Both Jane and Dr. Selvig looked around to see Thor’s friend smirking at them from his perch in a chair. Unlike the rest of them, he seemed unconcerned by trivialities such as what to pack. Mostly, he just twiddled with his arrows and smiled to himself, like he found the rest of them unceasingly amusing. “I’m coming along to make sure Thor doesn’t accidentally break anything.” 

Somehow, even from several feet behind Clint Barton, Darcy heard and answered that statement by slamming her suitcase shut. “What, you don’t think _I_ could handle that?” she demanded as she came up to the rest of the group. He eyed her for a moment. 

“Aren’t you like seventeen?” he asked. 

“I’m twenty-two!” Darcy snapped, throwing her hands into the air. “And I’d like to see _you_ taze the God of Thunder, Mister Bigshot.” 

By that point, Jane was having to try very hard not to rub her temples. Darcy and Clint had been going at it since the latter had arrived via car with Thor four days ago. It was pretty obvious that Darcy thought Clint was attractive, but who _didn’t_ Darcy find attractive? Jane wished that SHIELD had sent someone that at least wouldn’t think loud arguments were a form of flirting. Hadn't Dr. Selvig mentioned a pretty redhead with an icy demeanor that spent most of her time around Clint? Even if Darcy found _her_ attractive, it didn't sound like that sort of woman would reciprocate... 

“Look,” Jane said forcibly, and every head in the room swiveled in her direction. “Everything is going to be _fine_ , okay? Dr. Selvig is going to man the fort, and I am going to enjoy having Thor around, and Darcy isn’t going to hire any male prostitutes–” 

“I make no promises.” 

“Should I make sure to look after you, too?” Clint asked. 

“Do you want a taste of my tazer? ‘Cause I can go get it out of my bag.” 

Jane rolled her eyes a second time and wandered off, the better to let Clint and Darcy’s voices fade into background noise. Maybe if she showed how stressed out she was getting, Dr. Selvig would leave her alone, too. As she moved across the room, Jane looked at her watch. Where _were_ you? Being on time had never been your strong suit, but she thought she might go crazy if the trip didn’t get a move on soon. 

“Are you all right?” Thor touched Jane lightly on the elbow as he spoke. Jane smiled up at him, though she winced a little as she did. 

“I’m fine!” she said with a nervous laugh. “I’m just…worried, I guess.” 

“If it is about what Selvig said,” Thor’s expression was full of concern, “I really do not intend to make trouble for you.” 

“I know,” Jane said as she gently touched Thor’s cheek. “And he knows that, too. Erik just likes worrying.” 

“I heard that!” Dr. Selvig called. Jane chuckled, that time more genuinely. Her smile seemed to make Thor feel more at ease as well, because he grinned down at her. 

“I am glad that the fixing of the Bifrost and my arrival did not cause you any inconvenience...though I do feel as though I am interrupting your work with this trip.” 

“You’re not!” Jane said. “This was already planned. You just have _really_ great timing. Besides, it would be pretty boring, you sitting around watching me work all day.” 

“Never boring.” Thor took her hand and kissed the knuckles. Despite that being a fairly common occurrence by that point, Jane still felt herself blush crimson. “You are so passionate that I could never find your work boring.” 

“That’s–” Jane began, but she couldn’t finish her sentence. The sound of a blaring car horn cut across her words. Her mouth snapped shut; she looked outside to see a bright red car pulling up to the front of building. “She’s here!” 

Before anyone could stop her, Jane pushed the nearby doors open and rushed outside. You were only just getting out of the car when she arrived, and when you saw her, you threw your arms wide open. 

“Jane!” 

“[Name]!” 

Without further ado, the two of you hugged, both laughing. The sound of the door opening again announced the rest of the troop joining you, though neither of you broke apart at that. Even when Jane did step back to beam at you, the group went ignored. 

“Thanks for inviting me along on such short notice,” you said. 

“It was no problem at all! How have you been?” Jane asked. You cringed slightly, but still tried to pass it off as a smile when you answered: 

“Well, I’ve been better.” 

“I know. I’m really sorry about the wedding. I was so surprised when I heard he called things off.” 

“You and me both,” you said with a snort, but soon your smile was back. “But that’s not your fault. I’m just grateful for something to take my mind off things.” 

Behind her, Dr. Selvig cleared his throat. Jane gave him a sheepish smile before looking back at you. He would insist on proper etiquette. Jane’s father might have been dead, but he had done a _pretty_ good job with his choice of father figure. She stepped up beside you, then pivoted to look at the rest of her friends. 

“Everyone,” Jane said, “this is [F Name] [L Name]. We were roommates in college. She’s a biochemist up at University of Maine." 

“ _Was_ ,” you said. 

“She _was_ a biochemist at University of Maine,” Jane amended, though she frowned as she did so. On top of everything else, you had quit your job? Things must have been really bad for you to want to leave entirely. That moment wasn’t the time to ask for more details. Maybe later, once the lot of you got to Vegas. “[Name], this is my associate, Dr. Erik Selvig, my boyfriend, Thor, his friend, Clint Barton, and my friend-slash-assistant, Darcy Lewis. More my friend.” 

“Uh, rude,” Darcy said, though she grinned. “I’m the best assistant you’ve ever had.” 

“You’re the only assistant I’ve ever had.” 

“Doesn’t change my point.” 

“It’s nice to meet all of you. I’m glad Jane has some friends down here.” Your eyes met Jane’s. “She was really shy in college.” 

“Well, she’s not shy anymore, I can tell you that,” Dr. Selvig said as he stepped forward to shake your hand. You took his with a smile. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Selvig. I once had an associate that thought most highly of you.” 

Clint and Darcy both greeted you afterward, and then Thor kissed your hand. You smiled wryly and looked over at Jane. 

“When did _you_ start having all the luck with men?” 

“When they started falling from the sky,” she answered. Your eyebrows shot straight up at that, but Jane didn’t elaborate. She still wasn’t clear on whether or not Thor’s identity was very much “secret.” Probably the truth of it would come out eventually from Thor himself anyway, once everyone got on the road. 

As if reading her mind, Clint placed his sunglasses over his eyes and looked pointedly at the car. “I know I’m not the one in charge of this operation, but if we don’t get moving soon, we’ll miss our check-in time.” 

“I never told you our check-in time,” Jane said, and looked at Darcy, who lifted her hands to her chest. 

“What? Why would _I_ tell him? The more in the dark he is, the better.” 

“Are we competing to see who can babysit best?” Clint asked with a smirk. “Because you’re going to lose, Darce.” 

“We’ll see about that,” she said haughtily. “And don’t call me Darce! We aren’t friends.” 

Clint laughed. Jane stood awkwardly at the center of the group, looking between Thor’s pleasantly curious face, your bemused one, and Dr. Selvig’s expression of complete disbelief at the fact that she was actually going to go through with the trip. For a moment, Jane seriously considered calling it off. Between you being emotionally volatile and Thor…being Thor, and Darcy and Clint being determined to go at each other, the entire thing seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. 

But Jane was, if anything, ever-optimistic. Soon she was smiling again. “Well, let’s pack up and hit the road, then!” 

“Yay!” Darcy said, darting back into the building to grab her things. Clint followed her at a slower pace, shaking his head. 

“You still have a chance to get everyone to stay here, Jane,” Dr. Selvig said quietly. Jane shook her head. 

“It’ll be fine! We’re all adults here, right?” 

“I suppose.” He still looked doubtful. “You have my number so you can call me if anything goes awry?” 

“Yes, Erik,” Jane said. “If Thor’s brother decides to send down another alien being to destroy the hotel, you will be the first on my list of people to notify.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I know, but everything is going to be _fine_.” 

“Loki is imprisoned on Asgard after his attack on Manhattan,” Thor called. He was loading both his and Jane’s luggage into the back of your car. “He will not be able to bother us.” 

“Yes, well,” said Dr. Selvig, “I’ve heard that before.” 

“Erik…” 

“I know, I know. You can handle yourself. _Try_ to look after things, will you?” 

“You know I will. And you’ll do the same here?” 

“To the best of my abilities.” 

“That’s all I ask.” 

“Come on, Jane!” Darcy cried. “Let’s get going!” 

Jane waved at Dr. Selvig and headed back toward the car. “Goodbye!” 

“So, who’s driving?” Clint asked as she arrived. Jane looked curiously at you; you grinned. 

“The car is rented under my name, so I’m driving.” 

“I call shotgun!” said Darcy, and climbed into the passenger seat without waiting for anyone to argue. Jane, Clint, and Thor made their way to the back of the car. 

“Great, that means _I_ get to sit with the happy couple,” Clint said as he scooted over as far as he could go to allow Jane and Thor seats together. Darcy glanced back at him. 

“Hey, you want babysitting duty so bad, _you_ can sit there. I don’t want to watch Jane make out with anybody, even if the anybody _is_ as hot as Thor.” 

Though his eyes were hidden by his lenses, Jane could only imagine Clint rolling his eyes that that one. Before he could retort, however, Thor clapped him on the shoulder. “It could be worse, my friend. You could be looking after Tony and Pepper.” 

A short bark of laughter burst from Clint's mouth. “Right! If anyone needs to be watched in Vegas, it’s that guy. Let’s hope Nat gets that gig.” 

“Are we all ready to go?” you asked from the driver's seat.

Jane caught your eye in the rear view mirror and tried her best to smile. “We’re ready,” she answered, though not without another pang of nerves about whether or not the entire Vegas trip was a good idea. No one else seemed to feel that way at all, though, so what choice did she have? 

“Let us go,” Thor said. 

“Wee!” Darcy said, bouncing several times in her seat. 

“Then let’s blow this popsicle stand!” you said, and the convertible rushed back toward the road. Jane twisted only once in her seat to see Dr. Selvig watching them go. When you turned a corner, she settled back down, trying to ignore how worried he looked. Because, really, what could go wrong, with two doctors, a political science student, a demi-god, and a trained government agent? 

Thor nudged Jane’s shoulder and pointed toward one of the rock formations as you passed. As Jane attempted to meet his enthusiasm with her own, she _really_ hoped that no one would try to answer that question. It sounded more like the opening to a bad joke than reality, and she'd had more than enough of people treating her reality like a joke.


	2. Viva Las Vegas

What had you said roughly two hundred times on your way up to Vegas? That you wanted a change of scenery. That anything was better than where you’d been; that any _one_ was better than who you’d been with. Well, you certainly had that much, you mused as you stared out of the hotel window. A seemingly endless stream of cars moved unsteadily eight stories down, stopping and starting at nearly every stoplight. One such car pulled a large billboard with a group of chippendales emblazoned upon it.

Given what you knew of Darcy from the nearly ten hour drive there, you had half a mind to call her to see as well. You probably would have, in fact, if not for her being embroiled in some sort of massive fight with Clint. When you turned to face the rest of the brown and white room, she was dumping his duffel bag onto the floor.

“Oh, no. I don’t think so.”

“Well, _I_ do,” Clint said pleasantly, placing the bag back on one of the room's two beds. Darcy stared at him, then pushed it off. He picked it up again. You sighed and rested your cheek on your palm as you watched. They’d been at it the night before, too, at the motel your group had stopped at, but it hadn’t been _this_ bad. If only Jane had explained the room assignments _before_ arrival, maybe then Darcy and Clint could have figured out who was sleeping where without having to argue so loudly.

“I’ve got a pretty big job to do. Why do _I_ have to sleep on the floor?” Clint wanted to know. He was, you noticed, clearly not as into the argument as Darcy was. You could see his smirk clear across the room. She apparently could not.

“Excuse me, but _I_ am a lady and _you_ are not,” she said, as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Didn’t your mother teach you anything about chivalry?”

“Since when were you a lady? I thought you were a self-proclaimed badass.”

“It’s not just self-proclaimed. And I can be both, thank you very much!”

You rolled your eyes and turned to look back out the window once more. Your fingers twisted around the pink fabric of the curtains as you tried to tune the bickering out. It couldn’t be more apparent that Darcy and Clint wanted to jump each other’s bones, and Jane expected you to stay the weekend with them while she and Thor were upstairs in another room?

Not, you supposed, that _they_ would be any better. In all your years of knowing Jane, she’d never been that happy with someone she was dating. In fact, during college, Jane didn’t date people. Sure, she went on the occasional dinner, but she was too busy working on her Einstein Rosen Bridge thesis to care much what happened to her dates. Thor was somehow different. At least he adored her just as much as she adored him; you would have had to beat him up if he didn’t.

“Did you pay for a portion of this hotel room, birdbrain?” Darcy’s voice cut into your reflections.

“No,” Clint replied.

“Then you don’t get a bed.” You heard the distinct sound of Clint’s bag hitting the wood floor for a third time. “‘Cause I’m sure [Name] doesn’t want to share her bed with you and you sure as hell aren’t sleeping with me–and the two of _us_ paid to be here.”

Clint snorted as he bent to pick up his things, then slung the bag over his back. “Fine. I brought a sleeping bag anyway.”

“What?” Darcy practically shrieked.

“I figured I wouldn’t have a bed, so I went ahead and brought a sleeping bag. Is that a problem?”

A long silence followed those words. You kept your eyes trained to the stream of traffic. If those two started making out, you definitely did not want to see. A moment later, however, and Darcy spoke in a tone that was explicitly strained:

“You know what? Whatever. I’m going to go take a shower and get ready for tonight.”

“Where are you going?”

“None of your business!” she snapped before she slammed the bathroom door shut behind her. With a long sigh, you turned back again. Clint ignored you, already working on spreading his sleeping bag out across the black and white carpet. He smiled all the while and even chuckled once or twice.

Without speaking, you crossed the room to your bed and picked up your own small suitcase. It was light, since you didn’t have much in it. Just pajamas, a few nicer pieces of clothing, and some toiletries. You’d left your apartment in such a hurry. At least the rest of your things should have made it your mom’s place by then. You unzipped your luggage as quietly as you could. That wasn’t exactly necessary, since Clint hardly even noticed you were there. He was too busy fiddling with something of his own to bother much with you.

The dress in your hands fell back into the jumbled mess within your bag. A jolt of pain in your chest accompanied a familiar sting in your eyes; you hastily lifted your hand to wipe away a fresh wave of tears. Clint and Darcy were going to be a couple, and, yes, you’d probably have to watch them get to that point. That didn’t mean you had to _cry_ over it. But it also didn’t mean you had to stick around and wait for her to invite him to conserve water with her. Just as silently as ever, you slipped past Clint and out into the hallway–where, of course, the tears threatened to overwhelm you again.

You jammed the elevator button as hard as you could, then squeezed your eyes shut just as hard. When the nearby doors opened, your eyes did as well. All you had to do was step into the thankfully empty lift. _Breathe. Just breathe. Don't scream. Don't Swear._ Just because Garrison turned out to be some wuss that couldn’t even bother to tell you himself that he didn’t want to get married anymore, you weren’t going to throw a tantrum in the middle of the Flamingo hotel. No, you were over tantrums. You’d made sure to get those out of your system before you’d made the trip to New Mexico. Jane thinking you were more of a mess than she already did was the _last_ thing you wanted out of this vacation.

By the time the doors opened again, you had yourself under control for the most part. A quick look at your reflection in a hallway mirror told you that, at the very least, you hadn’t smudged your makeup. With any luck, Jane would have no idea how close you’d been to tears before arriving at her doorstep. You still needed a moment to breathe before you knocked, however.

“Couldn’t stand being around Clint and Darcy anymore?” she asked without preamble upon opening the door. You shook your head. “Join the club. Oh, and you can come in, too.”

“Thanks,” you said as you followed her inside. Jane was already a lot farther along than Darcy on her beauty routine, you noticed. She had applied her makeup and pulled her hair up into an elegant bun, and was wearing a beautiful dress the likes of which you’d never seen on her, even when you'd tried to give her makeovers when you were in school together.

“Thor is in the shower,” Jane explained unnecessarily over the hiss of water coming from the bathroom. You made a noncommittal noise in reply and plunked yourself down onto the only bed in Jane and Thor’s room. Your eyes wandered about for a minute or so. There wasn’t much of anything different to look at, unfortunately, and when they landed on Jane still standing by the television, she cocked her head to one side. “So…”

“That doesn’t sound good. Is this another lecture on life from Dr. Foster?” you said, though one end of your mouth quirked up.

“No! I don’t mean anything _bad_ , but…I was just wondering why you quit your job. I thought you really liked it there.”

“I did. But Garrison worked there, too, you know? As part of my department. I just couldn’t handle seeing him every day. Most of the staff was invited to the wedding, too, and I didn't want to go into the office anymore. It's kind of hard to get any research done without at least going to library every so often, and I was basically just working from home for the last few weeks."

“But what are you going to do now?”

“I have no idea,” you said with a wry smile. “Move back to my hometown?”

“But you hate New Mexico!” 

“Yeah, but I’d be closer to you. I’d like that.” Your shoulders shrugged; suddenly you found your fingernails very interesting. “And my family. Carlos just graduated from high school, and Cooper will soon. I could help them out with college, I guess.”

“Or you could come work for me.”

You had to laugh at that. Jane was such a nice person–nice to the point of ridiculousness sometimes. “Jane, we don’t even work in the same field.”

“Just until you find other work." She sat down next to you, as though to assure you of her eagerness with her willingness to be inside your personal bubble. "I’m _sure_ we could use you somehow! I mean, now that the Bifrost has been fixed, there will be so much work to do! I’m actually hoping that I can expand my circle of employees.”

Your heart sank. God, you adored Jane. You could never be like her, and that was somehow nice. But the thought of her giving you such charity just upset you further. Before you could tell her thanks, but no thanks, the bathroom door clicked, and out stepped Thor, dressed to the nines in an expensive suit. He looked at both you and Jane before adjusting a cuff and asking:

“Is this correct?”

You whistled, long and low. Jane threw you a look of bashful pleasure that gave way to a laugh when you waggled your eyebrows like you had in college whenever she met a boy. Still giggling, she walked up to the Thor to adjust his tie.

“Yes, it’s correct,” she said, and then took a step back to give him a second once-over. “ _Wow,_ that’s weird.”

“It feels strange as well,” Thor confessed, shifting his shoulders against the suit jacket’s fabric. You stifled a chuckle at how uncomfortable he looked; he and Jane almost matched. “I am not used to such attire, but if it will please Selvig…”

“What, you don’t have suits where you come from?” you asked. You meant the question in jest, but Thor shook his head. “You’re kidding!” Come to think of it, he _did_ have something of an accent. “Where are you from?”

Both Thor and Jane froze. His blue eyes found Jane’s face; her mouth fell into a near-perfect “o” for about five seconds before she answered:

“Canada.”

Your eyebrows pressed up. “They don’t have suits in Canada?”

Thor smiled. “It’s very northern...Canada.”

“Right,” you said after an awkward pause. Jane must have noticed it, because she clapped until the two of you looked at her.

"We’re going to be late,” she said. Thor immediately found his place next to her and grabbed her hand. You felt your cheeks warm at the sight and looked away. “[Name], are you ready?”

You looked pointedly down at the shirt you were wearing. It still had wrinkles from that morning’s drive. Perhaps Jane had learned mind reading since you'd last seen her, since the next thing she said was:

“That’s okay. You don’t have to dress up.”

“And waste the opportunity?” You tried your best to smile at her.

Jane only frowned in response. “If you don’t want to go back to your room, you can borrow something of mine.”

“I really doubt that would work,” you answered, and gestured at your chest. She appeared to get the message, because she winced slightly. Her eyes darted to Thor, but the frown pulling at his lips indicated that differences in breast sizes were not something they had in northern Canada either. With a sigh, you settled back onto the bed pillows. “I’m not really up for socialization tonight anyway, Jane. I’m sorry.”

“Are you sure? You’ll miss the show.”

“Yeah.” Listening to Clint and Darcy argue in your room was quite enough time with couples for you that day. Still, you didn’t want Jane to think it had anything to do with her, so you forced a smile. “I’m probably just gonna go downstairs and get a drink.”

Teeth flashed against her lower lip. You could tell that when Jane looked at you again, she didn’t feel quite right about leaving you there. A wave at the door behind them would set her on her way, you hoped. 

“Seriously, Jane. Don’t worry about me. You and Thor go have fun.”

“And Darcy and Clint,” she added.

“Yeah, them, too. All the happy couples should go off and have fun.”

Jane opened her mouth, presumably to apologize, but then must have thought better of that. _She_ forced the smile that time, and then she and Thor turned to exit. Right before they did so, however, Jane looked back at you.

“You can stay here until we get back, if you want. Get away from Clint and Darcy.”

“What, and prevent you having a good time with Thor when you get back?” Jane choked out a completely incomprehensible protest; you laughed and waved her toward the door again. “Seriously, Jane. Just go have fun. Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl.”

“Text me if you change your mind?”

“Promise.”

Before the door fully swung shut behind the two of them, you heard Thor’s deep rumble of a voice say something to Jane, and she laughed again. The silence struck soon after, leaving you with nothing but yourself and your uncomfortable thoughts in the empty hotel room. Why was Jane suddenly so lucky with guys? Why was everyone but you suddenly so lucky with guys? On the rare occasions that men noticed Jane in college, she couldn’t be bothered to notice them. _You_ had been the one that went out, the wild child, the one that crammed in study sessions at four the morning before the test while Jane had everything _but_ her love and sex lives planned down to the smallest detail.

Maybe that was the problem. You weren’t organized enough; you just weren’t as goal-oriented or intelligent as Jane. Maybe you slept with too many people. Maybe you weren’t pretty or optimistic enough. But you’d never know, because Garrison hadn’t had the balls to tell you just _what_ his problem was. You were going to be all alone forever! If only you’d modeled yourself more after Jane. If only you’d taken more of her advice in school. Because even after your vacation in Vegas, you still had to go back home, where your mother would be waiting with fluttering hands and soft pity and warm tea.

You stood up abruptly at the burning in your chest. God, when were you going to leave that behind you? It was just a stupid wedding; Garrison was just _another_ stupid guy in your growing list of failed engagements. But even in Las Vegas you couldn’t get away from thinking about him, and what had ended up being so wrong with you. With a sudden rush of inspiration, you got to your feet and marched out of Jane and Thor’s room.

Maybe there wasn’t any place on Earth to get away from your feelings–but that wouldn’t stop you from trying what the place you were in offered. Booze had definitely been your friend in college. It looked as though you were going to buddy up with it again.

******

It was close to the midnight hour by the time Jane and Thor returned to their room. Just as you had said, you had vacated the premises, which was not cause for worry in and of itself. Forty-five minutes later, however, and Darcy called to say you were not in her room either. Neither she nor Clint had any idea where you had gone, and no matter how many times Jane called your cellular device, no one ever picked up.

And so it was that Thor found himself picking through the lower floor of the hotel, looking for you while Jane waited in the room in case you called her back. The acrid smell of some sort of burning sticks the Midgardians breathed in filled the air, but he was determined that that should not distract him, nor should the flashing machines into which most of the crowd were putting their money.

At last he came to the bar. Upon Thor’s first glance, he very nearly left immediately, as there was certainly a crowd, but no one smirking or laughing like the [Name] from the journey to this town. There were several people slumped over at the bar, however, and on closer inspection, he discovered that one such woman was, in fact, you.

“[Name],” he said as he strode closer. You did not respond; he placed a hand on your shoulder and shook as gently as he could. “[Name]?”

With a groan he could barely hear over the banging and beeping in the rest of the room, you sat up and looked blearily about until your eyes landed upon him.

“Thor?” you rasped. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Jane is worried. She sent me to find you.”

“Great,” you said. There was a distinct slur to your voice that made him frown. “Now she’s going to think I’m even _more_ pathetic.”

He took a seat next to you, and scooted closer. Although he himself had never been what the Midgardians referred to as “drunk,” he knew the symptoms well enough, as even those on Asgard could suffer from the condition on rare occasions. “Why would Jane think you were pathetic?”

“Because I _am_ ,” you said as your head flopped back onto your arms. “I’m here getting drunk alone in Vegas when I could be out having fun, and every guy I've dated has broken up with me. God. You’re so nice, coming to get me. Jane’s lucky. I wish I could find someone nice.”

“I am sure you will find someone nice someday,” Thor said, though if he were honest, he was not quite sure what you were on about. He did not have much experience with women–only his mother, Sif, and Loki on occasion. Never _human_ women, and he hadn’t the faintest idea what you were doing, getting drunk over some gentleman that had decided to abandon you without comment. It seemed quite a waste of time in his eyes.

“No, I won’t. Because I’m the problem. I’m a horrible person.”

“Jane likes you. I am sure you are a delightful woman.”

“Sure. Tell that to my two ex-fiancés.” Quite suddenly, you began to cry. Thor had the feeling it was all the alcohol in your system, but he still hated to see that, and knew that your sadness would cause Jane to suffer as well. He began to pat you gingerly on the back, all the while looking about himself so that he could shield you should any prying eyes catch you in your moment of weakness.

“If there is anything I can do,” he said,” you have but to speak it.”

“Yeah, sure.” Your voice grew quieter and quieter; your tears began to stop as well. “Unless you can get me married before the end of this weekend, there’s no hope for me.”

“Then I shall do it. You have my word.”

You snorted. “Right." 

A moment later, and you fell entirely silent. The long, deep breaths of slumber began to issue from your nose. Thor watched as his mind raced. You were sad. You being sad made Jane sad. The only way to make you happy was to get you married, which lead to the logical assumption that the only way to make Jane happy was to get you married.

Before any of the other gentlemen at the bar could take advantage of your vulnerable position, Thor scooped you up into his arms. Luckily, no one seemed the slightest bit concerned that he was taking you somewhere in such a condition. Even more luckily, Thor knew just the place for marriages. Thank goodness Jane had showed him some of the drive-thru chapels on the tour earlier. Otherwise, the vacation might have turned out a complete disappointment.


	3. What's An Asgard?

If waking up with a throbbing headache, a dry mouth, and a full-to-bursting bladder was bad, it was nothing compared to getting to that point by being literally dragged out of bed by Jane’s intern. One minute you were dead to the world; the next you were crashing to the floor in a tangle of sheets and limbs. Your eyes flew open only to immediately clamp shut. Light and movement made your stomach roil. Your first sound of the morning was a nauseated groan.

“ _Finally_ ,” Darcy said as she disentangled herself from the remains of your bed. You could not _see_ her, but hearing her was painful enough. You rolled away from the motion in your nest to press your face into the darkness of your pillow. “Wait. Are you going back to sleep?” Her hand latched around the back of your neck and wrenched your head up. “You are!”

“Shut up,” you said, though the thickness of your tongue distorted the words.

“Uh, no. It’s time to get up, star shine. The world says ‘it’s nearly eleven, you lazy bum.’”

“The world,” you tugged your head free of Darcy’s grip so that it collapsed back into the pillow, “cannot talk.”

“Do I have to get Legolas to shoot you in the shoulder?” Darcy demanded. You did not answer. “Legolas, shoot her in the shoulder.”

“What?” Clint barked.

“Oh, what? It’s not like it’ll kill her! She can get stitches after breakfast. I’m starving, and I want pancakes, not lobster bisque.”

“I am not using a weapon to get [Name]’s butt out of bed.”

“Fine! Use one of your punching glove arrows.”

“ _What_?”

“That guy on the _Justice League_ has one! Don't tell me you don't!”

“That was _one_ time!”

“Well, make it _two_!”

Hugging yourself and clenching your teeth did you no good. Darcy and Clint’s bickering beat steadily into your brain until it broke through the only wall keeping you down. Your stomach gave a final lurch. As you shot to your feet, your two companions fell silent–not that you noticed in your race to the bathroom.

The vomit did not come quick or clean. Even as you clutched the toilet with shaking fingers, it occurred to you how pathetic you looked. Now all you needed was Jane to show up to hold back your hair for old time’s sake. To add insult to injury, as a second wave burst out of you, you heard Darcy settle herself on the edge of the tub.

“So, uh, [Name],” she said casually. “I don’t mean any offense but…Are you married? ‘Cause you look married.”

“What,” you said raggedly, lifting your head from the bowels of the toilet, “is that even supposed to _mean_?”

“You look married. I mean, I’m _pretty_ sure you didn’t have that ring on yesterday, but what do I know?”

“Ring?” Though it was difficult, you crawled back up to look at your left hand. A band of gold wrapped around your ring finger. “When did I get this?”

“You tell me. Or we could ask Clint. He’s got hawk eyes or whatever. Hey, Clint!”

“What?” Clint appeared in the doorway. Just what you needed: more of an audience.

“You know when [Name] got this wedding band?” Darcy pointed straight at you. Clint very slowly dragged his eyes away from her to look at your hand. When he found it, he scoffed and leaned against the bathroom door.

“Yeah. She had it on last night when Thor brought her to the room.”

_That_ got you off the bathroom tile. “What?” you cried, and your fingers caught into the snarled mess that was your hair. “Jane’s _boyfriend_ brought me back last night?”

“Oh yeah.” Darcy bit her lip, though that did nothing to obscure her amusement. “Carried you in his manly arms and laid you down on the bed himself. Nearly scared the piss out me, asking to come in at three in the morning.”

“And _she_ nearly scared the piss out of _me_ stepping on me at three in the morning,” Clint put in.

“Hush, you. I’m telling a story.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” You held up your hands. Darcy appeared put out by the second interruption, but motioned that you could continue. “Why don’t _I_ remember any of this?”

“Because you were completely passed out? You’re very clearly hung-over right now. Must’ve happened sometime before you got back, ‘cause Thor tucked you in and told the two of us not to wake you up. Said something about you having a very long night.” She blinked, clearly looking for an explanation. You had none, but that hardly mattered a moment later. “Hey! If Thor found you last night, I bet _he_ knows who you got married to! We can totally ask him over breakfast!”

“No!” you blurted. Both Clint and Darcy stared at you. “We’re not asking Thor anything about last night. Especially not in front of Jane. Understand?”

“But don’t you want to know who your husband is?”

“I’m not married!”

“But you’ve got that ring!”

Your frustration burned in your chest even after a deep breath that should have cooled it. “Darcy, if I had got married to some guy I met in the casino downstairs, why would I be here and not in bed with my new husband?”

Her fingers drummed against the tub as she examined the ceiling. “Huh,” she said. “I guess you’ve got a point there.”

“Are we done?” Clint asked. “I thought the entire point of getting [Name] up was so we could go get–”

“Breakfast!” Darcy shot straight up. “Come on, [Name], we’re going to miss out on the french toast!”

“Er…” You glanced in the mirror. Never before had you looked more like a steaming pile of dog dung, not even after Garrison called things off. Your hair was mess, your makeup had dried in smears across your face, and your clothes stunk–thankfully of cigarette smoke instead of vomit. At least Thor hadn’t attempted changing you into your pajamas.

“[Name], you are _not_ just going to go back to bed,” said Darcy. “We leave tomorrow morning, first thing. All you did yesterday was get drunk. Don’t you wanna, I don’t know, _do_ something?”

“What if that something is taking a nap?” But before you finished asking the question, you knew the answer. Darcy lifted her eyebrows as though she could read your mind. Jane would be so disappointed if you spent the rest of the time hiding. Still, that didn’t mean the idea wasn’t tempting. She sensed that, too, and pointedly crossed her arms across her chest.

“If you’re not around, Thor will ask where you are, and there will be no one stopping me asking about that ring.” Damn. “And you spent your changing time barfing. If we don’t hurry, the restaurant is going to start serving lunch.”

“I am _not_ going downstairs looking like this.”

“We don’t have time for you to change! You probably can’t even get over to your bag to get your clothes.”

“Here.” Clint reappeared and held out the last set of clean clothes you'd packed. While Darcy glowered daggers at him, you took them. “Come on. She’ll get done quicker if you’re not here to watch.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a show anyway,” Darcy said, and swiftly closed the door behind her. As she and Clint wandered over to watch the television, you distinctly heard him ask:

“What the heck does my eyesight have to do with knowing when she got a wedding ring?”

“Well, you did, didn’t you?”

“That doesn’t make your logic make sense.”

Even as shaky as you were, it only took you roughly five minutes to change, pee, and wash your face. Your toothbrush remained untouched in your bag out in the room, but your mouth tasted like sour beer and vomit. Before Darcy could start banging on the door to get you moving, you squeezed some of her toothpaste on your finger and swished it quickly through your mouth. It didn’t much help, but you didn’t expect anything to help you that day. Your reflection stared back at you from the mirror, ashy and bleak. It was as good as things were going to get. At least you remembered to take the ring off.

“Food, finally!” Darcy made a beeline for the hotel room door as soon as you left the bathroom. You had never felt less hungry in your entire life, but you followed her and Clint to the elevator nonetheless. As it sped down toward the lobby, you tried to keep your nausea under control. By then, it had nothing to do with the overabundance of alcohol you’d consumed the night before and everything to do with the fact that maybe you _were_ married and had no idea to who.

Darcy did not help matters by bringing the subject up again. “So is there any particular reason we’re not allowed to ask about this in front of Jane? I thought you two were, like, besties.”

You threw a concerned look over at Clint, but he did not appear interested in the current conversation. That did not make you any more willing to discuss it. After a moment of pause, Darcy nudged you in the ribs with her elbow.

“C’mon. You can tell me. I’m super great at keeping secrets.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re impressively annoying first thing in the morning?” you asked.

“Only in the morning?” said Clint. You caught only a glimpse of his smirk before he stepped out of the elevator. Darcy huffed and made to go after him, but you caught her arm and dragged her back.

“Do you just really hate the idea of letting me eat breakfast?” she asked.

“Don’t tell Jane.”

“Don’t tell Jane what? That I hate that Barton guy’s guts? ‘Cause I hate to break it to you, but I’m pretty sure she’s smart enough to figure that out on her own.”

“About the ring okay?” With what little energy you had going into keeping Darcy in one place, you had none to rub your temple. Perhaps that was for the best. “Or that I might be married. Don’t ask Thor about it and definitely don’t say anything to Jane.”

To your surprise, she shrugged. “Whatever you say, [Name]. Can I eat now or what?”

You let her go, and she shot out into the lobby. The bright lights and noise caused you to follow at a slower pace; you wished you had not left your sunglasses in the rental car. Eventually, you heard Darcy’s voice, which gave you a target to follow. Through the haze of sleep and alcohol you could hardly see, and thus had not yet spotted her when a familiar voice nearby said:

“[Name]!”

Despite your best efforts to prevent it, your heart sank as you saw Jane running toward you. You might have managed a smile. Then you noticed Thor following her. Your memories of the night before–or lack thereof–rushed color to your cheeks that you were certain would not disappear before the two of them reached you. Somehow, when Jane arrived, she said nothing about your unusually red face.

“I’ve been calling you all morning,” she said, one corner of her mouth lifting as she held up her phone.

“Oh, uh.” You patted your back pocket and realized you had not brought along your phone, or your purse, or your wallet. With a sigh, you let your arm drop to your side. “Darcy is loud. I must not have heard it ring over her voice.”

“How are you doing this morning, [Name]?” Thor asked as he, too, came to speak to you. Too embarrassed by the fact that he had found you passed out somewhere to speak, you did not answer. This only caused Thor to frown. “You do not look well. I thought perhaps after last night you would feel better.”

“That’s right,” Jane said. “I kind of expected you to be asleep most of the day, when Thor said he’d taken you back to your room.”

At least she had the grace not to point out how dumb it was, you getting drunk in the first place. You shifted uncomfortably under her and Thor’s concern and mumbled something about Darcy wanting sugar and being unable, for whatever reason, to get it without you.

“So you haven’t eaten yet?”

“I–I forgot my wallet. It’s up in the room, and if I go back, I’ll probably crawl under the covers and sleep through our checkout time.”

“I’ll get you something.”

You pressed your lips together as you looked at Jane. Maybe it was just everything else going wrong, but her typical kindness at the moment made you want to cry. God, you were so pathetic that your roommate from college was not only letting you crash her big vacation weekend with her boyfriend, but also offering to buy you food. You had half a mind to tell her no, but then your stomach lurched again.

“Could I just get some ginger ale?” you asked. “I’ll pay you back.”

“If you want to. It’s only a couple of dollars.”

She led you down the hallway, which had several expensive shops and bakeries crammed into it. Jane stopped at the least busy one and pulled out her wallet.

“Are you quite sure you want ale again so soon?” Thor asked. “You still seem to be suffering the effects of what you consumed last night.”

“It’s not that kind of ale, Thor,” said Jane. “It’s to settle her stomach.”

“I was not aware that such an ale existed. I will have to tell my father when I get home.”

“You still live at home?” you asked. Jane only chuckled and handed you a bottle of Canadian Dry.

“Yes,” Thor answered, looking entirely unabashed. You raised a single eyebrow as you popped open your soda. After you had gulped down enough to start the cleansing process, Jane motioned for you and Thor to follow her again. The three of you settled into a seating area where a cluster of other late-risers sat picking at whatever food they had found. Darcy and Clint seemed to have disappeared, and you didn’t find yourself particularly disappointed with that development.

“So, what’s the plan today?” Jane asked. She craned her neck as she did; perhaps she was looking for her two missing companions. You shrugged in response, since “group nap” was so clearly off the table. “The four of us saw the Lion King last night. We could always break up, I guess, if anyone wants to gamble.”

“I heard tell of a zoo in one of the buildings nearby,” Thor said. “I confess myself interested in learning of the animals here.”

“We could do that!” Jane beamed. “And then we could go to the M&M Factory. I bet you’d really like that.”

Thor smiled, but it could not be plainer that he hadn’t the faintest idea what Jane was speaking of. With something in your stomach, you felt more capable of speaking. “They don’t have chocolate in Canada either?”

“Not of the M variety,” said Thor. Jane, looking somewhat worried, opened her mouth, but the usual distraction arrived before she could speak.

“Guys, guys, guys!” Darcy had one hand clenched around a strawberry-banana crepe. “You will never guess what I just won in a bet involving Clint. I–”

But she broke off and her eyes grew huge. “Well?” Jane prompted her. “What is it?”

Darcy did not answer her. Instead, she locked her eyes onto yours, clenched her teeth, and made several vague motions with her head. You frowned; she did it again.

“Darcy?” Thor asked. “What is wrong? Are you choking?”

“No!” she said quickly. “No, I just remembered I need to talk to [Name] about something _right now_. Something _important_.”

“You need to talk to [Name]?” Jane’s nose wrinkled. You, meanwhile, kept staring at Darcy. Slowly, her eyes moved to Thor’s hand. Jane followed Darcy’s gaze. "Oh my God!”

Even Thor started. Jane looked up at his face, back down, and then back at his face once more. When he continued to only look steadily back at her, she snatched his hand and pulled it upward. Your blood froze at the sight of the golden ring on his left hand.

“Are you _married_?” she asked. 

Thor nodded. “Yes.”

“And you didn’t _tell_ me?”

“It did not come up.”

“It didn’t come up?” she repeated, her voice going high in the way it only did when she was particularly stressed out. “How in the world did the fact that you have a _wife_ not come up? I know we’ve only really been around each other for maybe week total, but– _How_?”

“Probably because it only just happened last night,” Darcy said, pulling up a chair and plunking herself into it. In the startled and confused silence that followed, she took a large bite of crepe.

“Darcy!” you hissed.

“What?” she said around her mouthful of food. “I didn’t tell Jane! I tried to tell you first at least!”

Jane blinked several times before she turned toward you. “What do _you_ have to do with this?”

“[Name] had a ring just like that on her finger this morning,” Darcy said before you could answer.

“Darcy!” you wailed.

“Well, what do you expect me to do? The cat’s out of the bag now!”

“One of you brought a cat?” Thor frowned. Your, Jane, and Darcy’s heads snapped around to look at him. “And only just now released it?”

“No!” the three of you shouted. Thor’s continued frown did not look at all upset, simply…confused. Jane must have noticed this too, because she took a deep breath and pressed her head into her arms for nearly a whole minute before she sat up.

“Okay. Okay. Let’s figure this out. Thor, you weren’t married when we left from New Mexico a few days ago?”

“No.”

“But you’re married now?”

“Yes.”

“ _How?_ "

Suddenly your ginger ale felt like it might come right back up. Darcy, meanwhile, had the opposite problem. She was going through her crepe like movie theater popcorn; soon she would need a second to get her through the rest of the scene.

“I took [Name] to one of those shotgun wedding chapels you told me of on our tour,” Thor answered.

“You _what_?” Jane leaped to her feet. “And what did you _do_ there?”

“We got married.”

“You _what_?”

“I do not understand.” He looked each of you in the eyes, though you avoided his gaze come your turn. “It was a shotgun wedding. It is a shotgun marriage.”

“Those aren’t even a thing!” Jane snapped. She turned to you. “You _married_ my _boyfriend_?”

“I–I didn’t _mean_ to!” you said.

“How do you accidentally marry someone? In a chapel? In _Las Vegas_?”

“I thought that was kind of the point of those, actually,” Darcy interjected.

“Not right now!” Jane said.

“Touchy,” Darcy muttered.

“[Name], why did you take Thor to one of those chapels? I was so worried about you last night, and instead you were getting married to him behind my back?”

“It was not [Name] that took me there,” Thor said. Jane’s eyes flicked over to Darcy. He placed a hand on Jane's shoulder, though that did not appear to settle her. “Nor was it Darcy, or Clint. _I_ took [Name] there. Perhaps she does not remember.”

“I don’t,” you said. “Not that that makes this better, but…Jane, I swear I wouldn’t marry Thor. I don’t even know him!”

“Thor,” Jane whispered. Unlike you, she did not appear to be close to tears, although you believed she deserved to be. “Why would you _do_ that?”

“Last night you sent me to search for [Name] because no one could find her and this city is a dangerous place.” Jane pressed a finger to the corner of her eye and nodded. “I found her at the bar not far from here. She was very upset, and I knew that her being upset would make you upset. [Name] told me the only way to make things better was for me to find her a husband by the end of the weekend. I thought if I cheered her up, I would cheer _you_ up.”

Jane sniffled a few times. Meanwhile, _you_ wished you were dead. After everything that happened in college, you should have known better than to get so drunk. Too bad you were still as much of an idiot as ever. “You married her for me?” she asked.

“Yes,” Thor said gently, and took her hands. “I only intended the marriage to last until the trip was over. Is that not how your shotgun weddings work?”

“No,” said Darcy. Jane shot her a look as she let go of Thor’s hands.

“Okay, well…Luckily, we can fix this! We can fix this,” she said. “ _Some_ of us have been a little stupid, but we can fix this. After all, these sorts of weddings can be annulled just like a normal wedding can, so we just have to make sure to talk a lawyer, preferably before we leave.”

For the first time, Thor looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Annulled?” he repeated.

“Yes, annulled,” said Jane, and she began to move her hands about as she spoke. “It means–to void, to–to dissolve, like–”

“Like a marriage. I am aware of what annulment is. That is not the problem.”

Jane’s face froze with her mouth half open. Then she let out a single very un-amused laugh. “There’s a problem?”

“Annulment does not exist on Asgard.”

“What do you mean? Do you guys, like, not get married?” Darcy asked.

“What’s an Asgard?” you asked. You went entirely ignored.

“We get married,” Thor told Darcy. “But the breaking of marriages is rare. It requires approval from the king. My father has only granted five since he began ruling.”

“But–” Jane shook her head. “Your dad is the king. Surely he’ll–”

“We’ll ask,” Thor said flatly. “Had I known that this was as permanent a marriage as the rest here on Earth, I would have sought a different solution. I am sorry, Jane. I intended to rescue your vacation, not ruin it.”

“I should have listened to Erik,” Jane whispered, and closed her eyes. You felt for her, you really did. And you felt for Thor. At the same time, everyone was kind of forgetting that _you_ were the one married to him, and you hadn’t agreed to do so. A bubble of chagrin fluttered in your stomach.

“How did this even happen?” you demanded. “I don’t remember any of this. I couldn’t have said a vow or anything.”

“You woke up long enough to say ‘I do,’” Thor answered. All traces of amicability had left his face. “The longer we let this stay, the less likely it is that my father will allow us to separate. We should leave for Asgard at once.”

“What’s an Asgard?” you asked again.

“I will go get Clint. We should leave immediately," he said, getting to his feet. 

Jane nodded. “I’ll go pack.”

They left without another word to you. Darcy watched them leave, then turned to you with a smile. “Leaving Vegas to visit Asgard _and_ you went from being a loser with no boyfriend to married to prince. Not too shabby, [Name]!”

You clenched your hands into fists to resist punching her. “What is he prince _of_?”

“Oh, some weird place in outer space. I’ve never been. But you’ll find out soon. C’mon! Let’s go get our stuff packed before Clint gets back.”

She hopped up to make her way toward the elevator. In the brief time it took before you stood to follow her, you allowed yourself to cover your face with your hands and cry. You never thought you’d think so, but somehow staying at your job with your ex-fiancé and his friends would have been the better plan.


	4. That's an Asgard

If the ride back to New Mexico had been uncomfortable, it was nothing compared to how you felt once you were there. The land might have been wide and flat, and the sky a cloudless, starry blue, but you could not help but feel suffocated despite all the visible space. Maybe _that _was why you had tripped out of Jane’s van–you couldn’t exactly keep your rental car until you got back from wherever it was you were going–and came to rest on a large rock on the dry, yellow ground. At least away from people, you could breathe a little.__

__You also had the perfect vantage point to watch the rest of your entourage, including your "husband." A shudder pressed its way up your spine at the thought. Thor had got out of the car almost before Jane had put it in park. The five minutes since he'd been pacing around and shouting “Heimdall!” As usual, no one bothered to explain to you why he was doing so, or even what a Heimdall was._ _

__Possible this was because they were too preoccupied themselves. Jane and Dr. Selvig remained inside the car to continue the argument that started the minute she called him to tell him she was headed home. Clint was on his phone, having a very snappish conversation with someone on the other end. Every so often, he neared enough for you to overhear. It was typically the same sort of thing: “I know. I _know_ , Tasha. I kno–Look, I didn’t ask for this assignment. I’m already on cleanup duty. Could you just tell Fury where I’m going?”_ _

__Only Darcy appeared unaffected by the chaos around her. She sat on a different rock, humming along to some song on her iPod while she watched Thor. It was as though things like this happened on a regular basis to her–and given that she was a social science major, you seriously doubted that. But before you could get too frustrated by her lack of anxiety about the matter (especially given all the bickering between her and Clint over whose fault the marriage was on the way drive here), the distinct sound of a car door slamming took your attention away from her._ _

__“Erik, I said I was sorry. What else do you want?” Jane said as the two of them got closer to you. That must have been on accident, you figured. Your best friend hadn’t said a word to you since the discovery all those hours before. Even after you paid her back for the soda, all she did was take the money with a very worn smile._ _

__“Nothing,” Dr. Selvig answered. “I am not _mad_ at you, Jane.”_ _

__“Well, you’re acting like it!”_ _

__“Only because I know you are hurting. I did not want you to get hurt.”_ _

__“So you’re saying this is my fault.”_ _

__“I’m saying you could have prevented this. Why did you have to take him to Las Vegas? You are supposed to be an intelligent woman, Jane.”_ _

__For the first time, Jane looked sincerely as though she were about to cry. In fact, she probably already had. The mascara around her eyes looked a lot more smeary than usual. She came to a complete stop as Dr. Selvig continued on his way toward Thor. “Great. So now not only did my boyfriend get married last night, but I’m also stupid!”_ _

__Dr. Selvig also stopped. He was close enough that you could see his eyes shut as he sighed. Slowly, he turned back around to Jane. “I did not mean to imply that you were stupid. Jane, I feel for you. But what did you expect to happen?”_ _

__“Not this. When he went to go look for [Name], I thought–”_ _

__But she cut herself off when she spotted you a few yards away. Quickly, you focused your eyes on something else. You didn’t want Jane to know you had been eavesdropping. When you did not hear anyone moving again, you looked back up to find her standing in front of you. A shadow of an unhappy smile sat upon her face._ _

__“Hey,” she said._ _

__You forced a smile in return. “Hey.”_ _

__“This seat taken?”_ _

__You shook your head. Jane settled onto the ground next to you. For a few minutes, both of you watched Thor. He’d stopped screaming at the sky to speak with Clint, who was finally off the phone._ _

__“Jane,” you said, “I’m so sorry.”_ _

__“I know. I’m sorry, too,” she sighed._ _

__Most people probably would have said that sarcastically, or meant that they were sorry they’d taken you along, if you’d accidentally married _their_ significant other. Jane was different. You knew without even looking at her face that she meant it, that she was every bit as sad about your situation as she was about hers. Okay, maybe not _every_ bit, but close. Your eyes misted enough that it was difficult to see her through the haze. She must have noticed how close you were to crying in front of her and the rest of her friends, because she reached out and grabbed one your hands to give it a squeeze._ _

__“Look,” she said with much more optimism than you believed the situation warranted, “we’re going to get through this.”_ _

__You laughed hollowly in reply. “How? We’re sitting in the middle of a desert.”_ _

__“Yeah.” Jane drawled the word out as she released your hand. “We could have saved some time just leaving from Las Vegas, but I didn’t want Erik to worry.”_ _

__“We _did_ leave from Las Vegas. Where are we supposed to be going now?”_ _

__“Asgard,” Jane answered very unhelpfully._ _

__“Jane. What _is_ Asgard?”_ _

__She stared at you for a while, in one of the few unflattering ways she could. Not like someone that just realized they hadn’t explained anything to their friend. More like someone that hadn’t bothered to explain anything to their friend because their friend was too dumb to understand. In the silence that followed your question, Jane drew her legs to her chest._ _

__“You remembered what I’ve been working on? The Einstein Rosen Bridge?” You nodded. “Well…I found it. Because of Thor. And that’s what we’re waiting on.”_ _

__“We’re waiting…on a bridge.” Maybe Jane was right. Maybe you _were_ too dumb to understand. _ _

__Her answering smile didn’t make you feel much better. “A bridge to another realm,” she clarified._ _

__This made less sense, so you didn’t bother to question her further. As you watched the men, Thor clapped Dr. Selvig on the shoulder, and stepped forward to shout, “Heimdall!” another twelve times._ _

__“And for that matter, what’s a Heimdall?” you asked._ _

__“I think we’re about to find out.”_ _

__Frowning, you followed her gaze toward the sky. Something in the heavens sparked: a shooting star. Pretty typical fare for an astrophysicist, you thought–until a sudden burst of technicolor light, like an aurora but more rainbow, shot toward the ground. Jane only squeezed your shoulder and said “Got your bag?” before she leaped up to rush off toward Thor, right toward the swirling light. Illuminated as it was, you couldn't see Thor’s expression. You grabbed your things quickly and ran after her. Though you might not have been thrilled at the prospect of extending your trip, you did suppose you wanted divorced, and it was not as though you had a job to get back to. Besides, a ride back to town with Jane's father-figure sounded incredibly unappealing._ _

__You arrived just in time to see the light smash into the ground, sending up dust and burning indistinguishable marks into the dirt. Thor looked to you and Jane; you noticed that he stopped looking at you as soon as he could._ _

__“Are you ready?” he asked._ _

__“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jane said, but she looked almost excited. “Erik’s going to watch the place while I’m gone. Again.”_ _

__“You are a good man,” Thor told Dr. Selvig. Dr. Selvig just nodded. Thor took Jane’s hand, but apparently she was not quite ready to leave. She grabbed Dr. Selvig’s hand as well, for one brief moment._ _

__“Thanks, Erik. Sorry for giving you so much trouble.”_ _

__“It’s nothing I’m not used to these days,” Dr. Selvig said, sounding a little pained._ _

__“That’s Jane,” Darcy piped up. “What a problem child.”_ _

__The only response she received was Jane rolling her eyes. Then she and Thor stepped into the roaring, swirling light and disappeared. Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull. When you gaped at Darcy, however, all she did was shove you forward._ _

__“No time for questions!” she said, then threw a look at Clint. “You going in or what, Mr. Hero?”_ _

__You couldn’t see Clint’s eyes through his mirrored sunglasses, but his laughter sounded humorless enough. “Ladies first,” he answered._ _

__“Fine then,” Darcy said, but she didn’t move. You, Clint, and Dr. Selvig watched as she stared into the vortex, biting her lip. Apparently you had time enough for everyone to just sit around. She must have thought the same thing, because she said, “[Name]’s a lady!”_ _

__“Wh–” The rest of your exclamation was lost as she pushed you again, this time straight into what could only be described as a portal. If she and Clint followed you, there was no way of telling. Your eyes were full of stars and colors, and your ears full of wind. Silence and vision returned to you only upon finding yourself on a glassy floor. How you had got in that position, you had no idea. The only choice you had was to peel yourself up and off._ _

__Upon doing so, you could see better where you were. “Realm” was probably how you would have described the room, too. There was nothing on Earth that looked anything like the wide sphere of gold. Behind you, pulsing loudly, was some sort of device spitting white light out into space. Yet you could breathe, well enough to spin in a circle so fast that you made yourself dizzy. When you did, you saw that you were not alone. A tall man with eyes so gold you could see them even from several feet away stood on a pedestal in the center of the room. He spotted you looking and inclined his head._ _

__“Welcome to Asgard, Lady [Name].”_ _

__Taken aback by a completely alien stranger knowing your name, you were capable only of staring back at him, mouth slightly ajar. Before you could make too much of a fool of yourself, however, Jane intervened:_ _

__“[Name], _this_ is Heimdall.”_ _

__You glanced at her and Thor, then attempted to gather your wits about you. “Nice to meet you, He–”_ _

__“You might want to move out of the way,” he interrupted. The thought of questioning this did not occur to you; you only bolted toward Jane without making Heimdall ask a second time. Running might have been the only smart thing you’d done since the cancellation of your wedding. Only just as you got out of the way, Darcy and Clint appeared where you had recently stood. Darcy recovered first, taking several steps deeper into the room and grinning._ _

__“ _Woah_ ,” she said. “Forget Vegas. _This_ is cool.”_ _

__“Will this be all of your party?” Heimdall asked Thor over everyone’s heads. Thor nodded grimly, then lifted one hand toward what must have been the exit. Clint wordlessly followed Thor and Jane out of the chamber. Darcy, for whatever reason, waited to leave with you. The rest of your group had not gotten far by the time you both got outside. Jane had stopped to pet the bridge, which was made out of the same glassy floor as your arrival point._ _

__“This is the Bifrost?” she asked Thor._ _

__“Yes,” he said._ _

__“Did it look the same before you rebuilt it? What is it made out of? How did it break to begin with? Do you have samples of the material I could take back?”_ _

__As Jane always did when she found something new, she continued to rattle off questions more quickly than anyone could answer them. Unlike most people, Thor looked as though he appreciated the questions. Even when she began to pace, a sure sign that she intended to stay there for a while, he only smiled fondly at her. You, meanwhile, shifted impatiently from foot to foot. Yes, going to a new realm was interesting from a scientific perspective. Yes, this was something that Jane had been working toward for at least as many years as you had known her. No, you did not particularly want to prolong your stay to do some extra research._ _

__Eventually, Thor must have thought the same thing. He took her hand gently and gazed down at her until she fell silent, smiling bashfully back at him. “I will try to answer all your questions,” he told her, “and get you your sample, but first we really must find my father. Besides, it is getting late, and I am sure you and your friends will wish to sleep before returning to Earth.”_ _

__Then Jane did something very un-Jane-like: she agreed. “Okay, but you _have_ to tell me everything as soon as we’re done.”_ _

__“You have my word.”_ _

__Never in your entire life had you seen Jane give up scientific inquiry. Not for food, not for sex, not for bathing, not for anything. But there she went, walking after Thor and Darcy and Clint’s retreating backs. You had no choice but to follow, and as you did, the fact that you were nowhere any human had ever been before became more and more obvious. The thought that you were there because of a major embarrassment fled entirely when the city came into view._ _

__Everything was ablaze with light. Tall spires of gold reached toward the twinkling stars, so high that you could not see their tops. Beneath your feet, sturdy bridges passed above the dark waters that ran into a roaring waterfall somewhere beyond your sight. Boughs of leaves spilled from balconies. Walls reflected the glow of fire burning in each window. Had you come under any other circumstance, it would have been the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. There were people there, too, dozens of them walking about the streets, calling, chatting, kissing. Many cried greetings out to Thor, who nodded and waved in turn. For once, even Darcy seemed impressed. This became especially apparent upon your party walking past what could only have been a tavern, given the smell of yeast and the sound of revelry issuing out the door._ _

__“You know what I could use?” she asked, then answered her own question when no one else did: “A drink.”_ _

__“Not now, Darcy,” Jane said._ _

__“Aw, come on! Authentic Viking mead? Ambrosia? When are we ever going to have this chance again?”_ _

__“I think Ambrosia is a Greek thing,” Clint interjected._ _

__She practically pressed her palm into his nose. “Not the point! Come on, Jane, please?”_ _

__Jane hesitated. Maybe things were bad enough that she wanted a drink, too. A passing desire for one entered your head as well, but you shoved it aside. Drinking was what had got you into this mess to begin with. Drinking more was not a good idea._ _

__“Later,” Thor told Darcy as Jane continued to remain silent. “Once we have solved the problem at hand.”_ _

__Darcy heaved a massive sigh, threw a longing look at the tavern, and hastened to catch up. “I guess that’s fair. Where are we going, anyway?”_ _

__“The palace.”_ _

__The atmosphere tensed quite a bit after this reveal, or maybe it was just you. Either way, you barely paid any attention to the scenery, and by the time you actually got to the palace, you were entirely out of it. There were probably guards, explanations, and other people wandering the hallways, but you did not notice any of them, not until Thor opened a massive door and led the party into a room just as tall as it was wide. Everything inside appeared to be made out of gold, highly burnished gold at that; you could see your pallid features reflecting off the floor, the walls, and even the short stairs that led down into a slightly sunken seating area. Everyone looked around with hushed awe–except, of course, for Darcy._ _

__“Okay, so, is Loki still single? Because I can completely get used to staying here. Is every room this nice?”_ _

__Clint’s derisive snort was the most response he could fit in before several figures rose from the couches in that sunken pit. Four heads popped up, each bearing an expression of either excitement or confusion as they spotted Thor leading your company._ _

__“Weren’t you supposed to be on Midgard until next week?” asked the only woman as Thor neared._ _

__He didn’t smile, but halted. You, Clint, Darcy, and Jane paused behind him. “An incident has arisen that precipitated my return.”_ _

__“Oh, _that_ sounds interesting,” said a large man with wild hair. He exchanged a glance with a thinner, dark-haired one, who shot Thor a look in return._ _

__“And here we thought you were just going to gamble,” he said._ _

__Thor opened his mouth, perhaps to explain, perhaps to shift the conversation to another, more pleasant subject. You hoped he was going to ask where his father was. Forget how beautiful Asgard was, you just wanted to go home. The last of Thor’s friends, however, interrupted as he gazed at you through narrowed eyes._ _

__“Is this Jane?” he asked, and you immediately felt heat rush to your face. “She doesn’t look anything like she did last time we saw her.”_ _

__“Her demeanor is not the same either,” the woman remarked. That caused you to scowl, but no retort was forthcoming. A long, awkward pause followed her question, broken only by Darcy whistling into it. Somehow, that seemed to spur Thor into action._ _

__“No. This,” Thor said as he drew Jane forward to smile at the crowd through thin, near-white lips, “is my girlfriend, Jane. That is my wife, [Name].”_ _

__"Oh, are we doing polygamy now?" the blond one asked, with the same air as if he were commenting on a bout of uncommon weather. You pulled a face at him, which only caused the man to smirk._ _

__“No. It was a mistake. I’ve come to ask my father to rectify it.”_ _

__“If you don’t mind my saying so,” the largest of the group broke in. When you looked over at him, he was smiling at you, though not in a way that indicated he was amused at your predicament. “Your wife does not look pleased to be here.”_ _

__“She’s not,” Darcy sang. “But come on, [Name], isn’t this cool? If you ask me, you should keep the husband. This place is amazing.”_ _

__“Darcy,” Jane hissed._ _

__“What? It totally is. _I’d_ stay married to him.”_ _

__“Perhaps she is upset that we have forgotten our manners and neglected to introduce ourselves,” said the blond man._ _

__“Ah, you have a point!” said the largest. He got to his feet and walked easily over you to, or at least more easily than you would have expected for a man his size. You eyed him warily as he got closer, debating whether or not to shake his hand, but you need not have worried. As soon as he got close enough, the man threw his arms about you and lifted you into the air with a delighted cry. You couldn’t think of anything to say or do in response to that, and had to resign yourself to waiting until he put you down. When he did, he was beaming. “Welcome to Asgard, Lady [Name]. I hope you enjoy your time here. Volstagg, at your service.”_ _

__“Fandral,” said the blond man with a small wave._ _

__“Hogun,” said the dark-haired main, nodding._ _

__“I’m Sif,” the woman said. Her tone remained neutral, but you couldn’t help squirming underneath her appraising gaze. Luckily, it didn’t last long. Not even ten seconds later, she returned her attention to Thor. “Have you shown your guests their rooms?”_ _

__“No,” Clint said, looking wryly amused. “He hasn’t.”_ _

__“I have not. I must confess that I rather hope to be done with this affair quickly, so that I may return them to Earth tomorrow morning,” said Thor._ _

__“That’s unlikely,” said Fandral. “Odin left this morning on an errand. He won’t be back until tomorrow at the earliest.”_ _

__“Why the rush?” Hogun added._ _

__“Marrying [Name] was a mistake. Even if Jane and I were not already together, [Name] and I are entirely unsuited for one another. She–”_ _

__“I’m right here, you know,” you said loudly, and every eye in the room turned to you. Though you disliked the sudden surge in attention, you were not about to back down. Whatever Thor was about to say, you doubted it was anything kind. Probably he was going to tell them you’d tricked him into wedding you. “And I’m not deaf either. If you’d kindly show me to my sleeping quarters, _then_ you can spend the rest of the evening in good company complaining about my defects.”_ _

__It could not have been more obvious that everyone thought your words tremendously rude. After all, this entire affair was _your_ fault. You were not denying this. If you hadn’t gone on the trip to Vegas, you’d probably be off at conference somewhere, at an interview for a new job, Jane would be happy, and a growing number of strangers would not hate your guts for ruining their friend’s life. But you _had_ gone, and you hadn’t had a chance to sleep since your mistakes had come to light._ _

__Volstagg was the first to try to smooth things over. “But what about dinner? Don’t you want to eat?”_ _

__“I’m not hungry.”_ _

__“I’m not feeling very hungry either,” Jane said. “It’s almost two o’ clock in the morning back where we come from. If your father isn’t here,” she added to Thor, “it would probably be best if we all rested before we speak to him.”_ _

__Thor pressed his lips together, but he nodded. “Then we shall retire.”_ _

__“I will show your lovely wife to a guest room,” Volstagg said. “Unless you object?”_ _

__“Not at all,” said Thor, and exited quickly and without remarking upon everyone already accepting your spousal status. Darcy and Clint exchanged nervous looks, then hurried after him and Jane, as none of his other friends had offered to give _them_ a tour. You watched after your two acquaintances until the door closed. Volstagg shifting next to you reminded you of who you were with soon enough. He smiled when he caught your eye._ _

__“Right this way, Lady [Name].”_ _

__A quick look at Sif, Fandral, and Hogun showed them all to be watching you with great curiosity. You didn’t want to stick around to hear what they thought about anything about you. When Volstagg gestured for you to follow him, you did without complaint. Unfortunately, his unwarranted friendliness extended to small talk. He might have tried to resist conversation, but he didn’t last very long. You had not even got through the first of many hallways before he asked:_ _

__“So how did you come to be married to our realm’s prince?”_ _

__“I woke up and I was married to him,” you answered tersely._ _

__“How odd,” Volstagg said, then continued his questioning: “I did not see you with the Lady Jane or Thor when I had the pleasure of visiting your realm last year. May I inquire as to where you were?”_ _

__“Probably at work. Jane and I don’t research in the same fields.”_ _

__“Ah. So, if you do not mind my asking, how did you come to know Thor?”_ _

__“He’s dating my best friend.”_ _

__“Yes, I can see how that would make things awkward.”_ _

__He’d stopped in front of a door, so you stopped as well. The smile on his face didn’t fade, even after several minutes. “Um,” you began, unsure of how to ask him what you were doing. Luckily, that single utterance seemed to be enough to get your point across._ _

__“Ah, my apologies. I simply thought that perhaps you would wish to speak about your situation. This is your room.”_ _

__“Thanks,” you said slowly, and reached for the handle._ _

__“I will have someone bring you fresh sleepwear,” he added. “If you need anything else, please let someone on the staff know.”_ _

__“I will.”_ _

__He bowed and left, much faster than he had arrived. You shut the door and tried to not feel uncomfortable. When you got a good look at the room, however, you knew any attempt at feigning normalcy would be in vain. A canopy bed larger than any you had ever seen before stood against the far left wall; an equally enormous fireplace stood on the other end, already crackling with fire. A full-length ornate mirror stood next to an intricately carved wardrobe; another mirror hung above a pot of water. The wall opposite from you was no wall at all: it was made entirely up of windows. Stepping closer, you saw that one had a heavy gold handle. Outside the door lay a walled garden, obviously closely monitored though the mass of flowers you could not identify appeared quite wild at first glance. The only light aside from the fireplace came from a candle sitting on a table by the bed, and from what you assumed was a moon outside, judging by the silvery glow against the highly polished floor._ _

__“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” you whispered to yourself. How you were supposed to sleep among such luxury, you hadn’t the faintest idea, though you were probably tired enough to pass out anyway. You were, thankfully, spared considering this option by a knock at the door._ _

__You opened it to find Darcy, not a maid or whatever they would have in a palace on Asgard. “Here are your pajamas,” she said, thrusting the silky fabric into your hands as she forced her way into your room. She nodded appreciatively while you closed the door._ _

__“Darcy,” you said, and dumped the clothes unceremoniously onto the bed sheets, “what are you doing here? And why were you bringing me clothes?”_ _

__“Because I was headed this direction anyway. You need to see a palace servant so desperately?”_ _

__“No,” you said. Oddly, you felt very drained. Your desire to snark your way through things evaporated. It was true that Darcy normally made you feel that tired, but this time it was different. You just didn’t want to think anymore, especially about why Jane’s intern was attempting to have a slumber party with you. As you sank onto a corner of the bed, you asked, “Why aren’t you with Jane?”_ _

__Darcy perched on the arm of one of the chairs in front of the fire and snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause I really want to watch her and Thor spork.”_ _

__Seeing as this was a sentiment you could appreciate, you didn’t have the heart to kick her out for this explanation. Still, her presence did not make a lot of sense. “Clint?”_ _

__To your very great surprise, Darcy did not snort or otherwise act annoyed at the suggestion. Instead she paused, looking at her feet for a long minute, and then sank onto the chair cushion. “He’s still trying to get a signal so he can call his girlfriend on Earth.”_ _

__“He has a girlfriend?” Darcy leaned her cheeks on her fists and nodded. “I’m sorry.”_ _

__“Well, this isn’t the best vacation _I’ve_ ever been on. But I guess that’s nothing compared to yours.”_ _

__You looked around the massive room and felt your heart sink into your stomach. Everything was already intimidating enough. What were you going to do when you had to see the king the next day? What would happen if he didn’t allow you and Thor to break up? Did they have capital punishment on Asgard? You highly doubted that any of these were questions Darcy had had to tackle on a vacation before. You rolled onto your back to stare at the canopy._ _

__“You have _no_ idea.”_ _

__The shifting mattress beneath you was the only warning you had that Darcy was joining you. “Hey, don’t give up hope yet. I mean, we both could still make out with hot Norse gods. That’s not a total bust, is it?”_ _

__Really, she should not have sounded so surprised when you hit her upside the head with a decorative pillow._ _


	5. The Best Laid Plans...Or Lack Thereof

Though he loved the Earth dearly and with all of his heart, there would always be places on Asgard that Thor loved just as well. One such place was his bedroom. When he had been younger and still courting war, the room had seemed confining and lonely, but the older Thor got, the more he appreciated its charms–and he appreciated them more upon waking that day than he ever had before.

In the middle hours of the morning, golden light pooled and rippled against the walls. He could lay in bed and watch the shifting light…or he could turn on his side and watch Jane continue her peaceful slumber. Her face only became so still when she was sleeping; otherwise it remained alight with curiosity or enthusiasm, or at least it did normally. As of late, her waking features had been drawn with worry and hurt. Whatever she dreamed, it was enough to keep her content. Thor was grateful for it. Nothing but the view before him could soothe the turmoil in his soul. It was a view he hoped to see for many mornings yet.

The thought that he would not still troubled him. After all his father had advised, Thor could not imagine receiving sympathy in the fixing of a situation that had only occurred through Thor ignoring that advice. He shook his head to dispel the gloom settling about his mind. It would not do to allow Jane to see his trepidation. She was worried enough as it was. Besides, his father had been quite clear about what he wanted from Thor’s consort. Why would Odin then force him to choose differently?

Different women, Thor allowed with a quiet sigh, but not a different situation in the end. [Name] was every bit as mortal as Jane was. As much as he liked Sif, Thor could not imagine loving her as he loved Jane, or living with Sif for the rest of his years. He also had difficulty imagining Sif being eager to take up the role of queen once Thor himself took the throne. She was fierce in a way that did not allow sitting or compromise to become a way of life. Either way, did it matter? Whatever she felt about him, he had promised himself personally to Jane and officially to you. If his father did as Thor hoped and annulled his marriage, _then _Thor could begin the task of healing his relationship with Jane, and–hopefully, eventually–marry her properly. If his marriage to you was to remain standing, well, _something_ would have to be done, though Thor did not know what.__

__Just as he was starting to think about going back asleep to escape the unpleasant wanderings of his mind, a sharp rap on the door interrupted him. Thor paused to watch Jane for signs of waking; none came. Slowly, he peeled back the sheets, stood, and walked to the door. When he opened it, he found a young woman with curly red hair standing directly there._ _

__“What is it?” he asked, stepping outside and shutting the door behind him. He did not wish to force Jane to wake up before she was ready to, not after everything else._ _

__The woman colored faintly before sweeping him a bow. “Your–Your Highness wanted notified when his father returned. I come to give notice.”_ _

__Thor felt his heart leap his chest, though he could not be certain whether it reacted that way through excitement or nerves. He took a step closer to the woman. “He is back?”_ _

__“He arrived only fifteen minutes ago, your Highness. He said...” She swallowed, causing Thor to frown. Normally the palace servants were not so prone to intimidation. “He said he would see you after he has broken his fast and bathed.”_ _

__“Very well. I thank you for the information.” He turned and opened the door, only to be stopped by a short exclamation from the woman. Upon spinning back toward her, Thor saw her face shining with excitement._ _

__She bowed again. “I apologize, your Highness. I simply wanted to congratulate you before you left.”_ _

__Although he thought he already knew the answer, Thor asked anyway: “Congratulate me on what, pray tell?”_ _

__“Your recent marriage,” the woman said with a wide smile._ _

__Thor could feel his shoulders falling, though she apparently did not see his negative reception of her words. “Where did you hear about that?”_ _

__“The whole palace is talking of it! No one expected you to return from Midgard with a wife, though of course you are of marrying age. Everyone is quite looking forward to her official introduction.”_ _

__All Thor could do was slowly draw his fingers down his face. Fandral, he’d bet Mjolnir on it. In Thor’s haste to take leave of your company the night before, he had neglected to tell his friends that the circumstances of his return were to be kept a secret. One might expect the lot of them to understand as much without direct orders, but this oversight had clearly been a mistake on Thor’s part, and of course the palace staff would take up the story and spread it as far as possible. He would not be surprised to find the news of marriage spread as far as the city gates. No audience with his father had yet occurred, and already the fates were moving against him._ _

__“Oh, but,” the woman covered her mouth with her hand for a moment, “I am taking you away from her speaking of the future. I will let you go, your highness.”_ _

__She bowed, leaving Thor no other option than to answer, “Thank you,” after which she started off back down the hallway at a quick pace, clearly in a rush to get to her next assignment. “Wait!”_ _

__It was as though Loki had frozen her solid. The woman stopped in tracks and stayed that way until Thor walked over to her._ _

__“What is your name?” he asked._ _

__“D-Dalla, your highness.”_ _

__“How long have you been serving here, Dalla?”_ _

__“Not long. Perhaps a month.”_ _

__“Can you find your way around?”_ _

__She hesitated long enough to bite her lip before answering, “Well enough.”_ _

__“Then I must ask a favor from you.” Thor gazed at her, placing his hand on her shoulder. Her blue eyes darted from it to his face. She appeared to be struggling; she had other things to do, but how could she refuse to do as the prince requested? After another short pause, she nodded. “I need you to go the guest rooms. Find [Name]; tell her that my father will see us after breakfast.”_ _

__“Is she to come to breakfast as well?”_ _

__“That would be for the best. She may wish to have sustenance before the meeting.”_ _

__“Will you be there as well?”_ _

__“I will come get her when my father and I are ready.”_ _

__Dalla looked as though she very much wanted to know why the woman in Thor’s room was not the one coming to see Odin with him. Still, she held her tongue, bowed again, and hurried off without another word. Thor watched until she disappeared around the corner–though he thought he might have heard her slipping on the floor once she was out of sight. No further noise came. He returned to his bedroom with his countenance dreary._ _

__His worry about the marriage returned in full force. Even the fact that Jane remained in the bed, breathing deeply in and out, could not manage to shake him from his mood. The fact that more than his group of friends knew of the marriage presented a complication that Thor had not planned for. Would the pressure of what his subjects believed had happened be enough to sway Odin toward ratifying the marriage?_ _

__While he was wondering this, Jane’s eyelids flickered open. For a moment, her gaze remained clouded with sleep. Then she stretched and, blinking up at where Thor was perched on the corner of the bed, sat up._ _

__“What are you looking at?” she asked._ _

__Thor stared for a few seconds, then asked, “If I told you I loved you, would you still believe me?”_ _

__Jane frowned at that. She smiled so often that the frown was almost cute; it would have been, if Thor did not know the reason behind the frown to be serious. “Of course,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I?”_ _

__“Because I have ruined everything.” Thor stood and walked toward a nearby window. Outside, the water flowed toward the end of a cliff just beyond the window. “You invited me to your home, on your trip, and I sullied the trust between us. Now I have dragged you to Asgard without allowing you to plan ahead.”_ _

__“It’s not your fault,” she began, but fell silent at the look Thor shot her. “Okay, maybe it’s a _little_ your fault. But I should have explained better and gone to look for [Name] myself.”_ _

__"You were going to. It was at my insistence that you stayed behind and I went to look for her.”_ _

__Jane chewed on her lip, then shot a burst of air out her nose. “I guess we _all_ acted pretty stupid. There’s no point in sitting around trying to figure out who’s more at fault. Erik's probably going to do that for us anyway. We should probably get started on…doing whatever it is we need to do to see your father.”_ _

__“You,” Thor went back to Jane and took one of her hands between both of his, “need not do anything.”_ _

__“What? But–”_ _

__“My father is here. He will see me soon, and [Name]. But I do not think that you should be present.”_ _

__“Why not? I mean, I _do_ kind of have something to do with it!” Jane burst out. _ _

__Thor blinked a few times, then grinned. It was not much a situation for grinning, but her brief explosions of emotion were such a novelty. He was used to Sif, who rarely, if ever, showed herself to be anything but composed._ _

__Seeming to know that he found her anger amusing rather than upsetting, Jane breathe deeply in and ran her free hand across the top of her head. “I should meet your father.”_ _

__“And someday you will,” Thor promised her, trying all the while to ignore the voice in the back of his head telling him it was not a promise he could make. “But I would prefer to not have you in the line of fire in this situation.”_ _

__“Line of fire?” Jane echoed. “I didn’t even _do_ anything! Why should he…” But she trailed away, unable to finish the sentence. _ _

__Thor’s eyes roved about her face until she looked away. A heavy weight had drifted into his chest early that morning and now Thor knew that he would have to give some of that weight to Jane. She wanted to be there, most likely as support for him and her friend, but he could not allow it. Neither could he allow her to wonder why. After an extended silence, he released Jane’s hand and lay down next to her in the bed. She obliging scooted over to make room, then back again to rest her head against his shoulder._ _

__“There is something that perhaps I should have told you," he began._ _

__“Wait a minute.” Jane stiffened. “You’re not about to tell me you’re married to someone _here_ too, are you?”_ _

__“No.” He chuckled. “No, Jane, I would never play you in such a manner. I merely intended to tell you that my father did not approve of my feelings for you long before I returned to Earth.”_ _

__“Oh.” This was the best she had reacted to a piece of bad news yet. “So…what? He’s going to be okay with [Name] and you?”_ _

__“No. He disapproves because you are Midgardian. He hoped I would marry Sif.”_ _

__“Sif! Well, she _is_ pretty. But shouldn’t _your_ choice matter more?”_ _

__“We have never pursued a relationship. My father never forbade me continue to see you. But as things are, I would prefer to keep you out of his line of sight. I do not wish to hurt you any more than I already have these past few days.”_ _

__“Fine, but I don’t know what _I’m_ supposed to do while you two are holed up talking to your dad all day.”_ _

__Thor smiled very genuinely that time. “ _That_ I have already arranged for.”_ _

__“It’s not visiting your brother, is it?”_ _

__“No. I rather thought Heimdall. If there is anyone on Asgard that can tell you about the Bifrost, it is him, and I am sure that he would welcome the company.”_ _

__“Bifrost?” Jane sat up. “Answers?” She stood. “What are we waiting for?”_ _

__“To get dressed.”_ _

__“Well, come on! Let’s get started!”_ _

__She ran off toward the wardrobe to fetch a change clothes, leaving Thor still in bed. He smiled even long after she had vanished into the bathroom. At least _Jane_ had something that kept her happy even when things got bad. Maybe he had that, too, in her. He only hoped that things would stay that way._ _

____

******

Thor put off the meeting with his father as long as he thought he reasonably could. Although Dalla had said he would be seen as soon as the king had eaten, he thought it best to give his father time enough to bathe as well, and to talk to Thor’s mother. Thor himself probably should have gone to see her the night before, but couldn’t stomach the idea with everything going on as it had been. She had already lost one son to poor judgment. What would she do upon losing the second?

Unfortunately, this would also give his father more time to hear the rumor going around that Thor had married a woman of Midgard in secret, as had been his plan since announcing his return to the Realm. Had Loki not been in prison, Thor might have accused him of embellishing the story so much. As it was, however, Thor could only blame the natural snowballing of a too-interesting story. The spread continued like wildfire. Heimdall said nothing when Thor brought Jane by, and Thor was immensely grateful for it. He’d loitered about listening to their conversation for nearly an hour, though he understood little of what was being said, just to avoid having to see more residents of the palace and, worse, you.

But he _had_ to see you. It was his duty. Eventually Thor was forced to leave Jane in Heimdall’s capable hands and return to the palace. Even before he got there, signs of celebration started to appear in the streets. Men and women alike called out congratulations to him, not caring that his reply was a stony silence. His predicament was not their fault, he understood this. Yet their enthusiasm dampened his considerably, so that by the time he arrived in the dining hall, he had returned to feeling immensely frustrated with quite nearly everyone. He wished that he could speak to his father without you so that he did not have to interact with you at all. But doing so would be impossible. Thor would have to provide his father with _some_ proof of the situation.

A steadying breath readied him to enter your presence once more. Hopefully you would be done with breakfast. If you waited around until one of the guards–or worse, Thor's parents–was forced to come and get you...

He need not have worried. You stood in the dining hall with nothing in hand, staring off into space. On either side of you stood Clint and Darcy, neither speaking, but the latter looking much more haughty than usual. Thor thought he might have sensed Darcy treating Clint more icily in the hours since the marriage discovery, but could not be bothered to spare the matter much thought. He had his own romantic issues to worry about; Clint would have to worry about his own.

You were so engrossed in thought that you did not react as Thor walked across the hall toward your party. He thought you were simply giving him the cold shoulder, but when he stopped to ask if you were ready, your only answer was a distinct start. Darcy and Clint’s brows furrowed with confusion.

“What are you _wearing_?” you asked, looking wildly around as though desperate for escape. Thor could not blame you, though his anticipation was quickly turning to frustration. He did not wish to take his feelings out on you, but if you made it easy for him to, it was likely to occur anyway.

“I could ask you the same question,” Thor answered stonily. “Most people would not see my father dressed in their pajamas.”

You colored up as you looked down at your sleeping clothes. They were of Asgardian make and beautiful, but still unlikely to impress his father. Someone must have made sure to get them to you–Volstagg, most likely. The color suited you; it struck Thor that you were in fact a beautiful woman. But that did not change the current situation. He was dating Jane, and you had not her warmth, zeal, or soft heart. He scowled as you looked back up at him and defensively said, “What _else_ was I supposed to wear?”

“The clothes you brought. It does not matter. We have no time for you to change.” Never mind that it was his fault that you were lacking in time. Thor had not thought you would need extra time to get ready; Jane had finished preparing for the day in under twenty minutes. Surely you could have got ready before Dalla took you to breakfast. Without waiting for your response, Thor turned his attention to Darcy and Clint. “I would ask that the two of you not join us. It would be best if this matter is kept private.”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” Darcy said, looking around at the rest of the people that had come to break their fast at the palace. All of them were watching; all of them were silent. 

Thor lifted his eyebrows and then determined he would ignore them all. “The meeting, at least, should be private.”

“And _then_ we’re going home?” Clint asked.

“As soon as I can arrange it,” Thor assured him.

“What?” Darcy balked. “You want to go already? This place is so cool!”

“Yeah, well,” said Clint, “ _you_ don’t have an angry boss waiting back home to yell at you.”

“Or a girlfriend,” she muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

Thor looked back at you to see you rolling your eyes. If you were brave enough for sarcasm, you were brave enough to see the king. “I will return shortly,” he said to Clint, and turned without another word to you to walk back up the way he had come.

“Be sure to come back with a full report,” Clint shouted after him. “I’m gonna need it or my ass is grass.”

Thor waved to show he understood, though the last bit he did not. How Director Fury had the power to turn someone’s body parts into foliage was beyond him, and hardly applicable at the time. He kept going as he heard the sound of bare feet rushing after him and only paused when you appeared next to him, breathing heavily.

“Are you coming?” he asked. 

You stopped breathing long enough to level such a glare at him that Thor was almost impressed. Had he not spent so much time around Sif, he would have been. 

“You know, I’m really sorry about all of this. You don’t have to be such a jerk,” you snapped.

“I am sorry as well,” Thor said, and continued walking.

“For marrying me or being a jerk?”

“Both, I suppose. Though it is not as though you have been particularly kind about the matter either.”

“You haven’t spoken to me once since we discovered it!” 

"Be that as it may, if this is how you lured your past husband into a marriage arrangement–”

“Garrison was my _fiancé_! And _he_ called off the wedding before it happened.”

“I envy his foresight,” Thor said. He felt a brief pang; there was no need for him to say things like that. But he could hardly say things like that in front of his father and Thor needed to release his pent up frustration somehow. This plan could no further, however, as you looked highly offended and only gaped up at him. “I doubt I need to say this, but while we are in there, it would be best if you did not speak. Let me do the talking. And do not forget to bow.”

He continued on his way until you shouted after him, “I didn’t trick you into marring me!”

Thor stopped, turned, and walked back toward you. “Yes. You did. You told me that to make you happy–to make _Jane_ happy–you needed to get married by the end of the weekend. You knew there were institutions for marriage nearby.”

“I was _drunk_! And pardon me for thinking Jane’s boyfriend was _intelligent enough_ to not _assume_ the solution was marrying me _himself_!"

“You’re calling me dim?”

“You _are_ the one that thought a shotgun wedding resulted in a shotgun marriage.”

“Pardon _me_ for wanting to help you. I can see now the effort was in vain.”

“How was divorcing me at the end of the weekend supposed to help?”

“You’d rather stay married, then? Was this a plan of yours from the beginning? To become Queen of Asgard?”

“I didn’t even know you were a prince!”

That Thor did not quite believe. Surely the thing about Canada had been a private joke between you and Jane. “I have been twice to your realm. Both times I stopped my brother from destroying it. The second he managed to destroy an entire city. It was on your news, as was I. Do you mean to tell me you do not recognize me?”

“I was going through a lot of inner turmoil at the time. I wasn’t paying a lot of attention,” you replied.

Your eyes seemed to beg Thor to believe you. Maybe all you wanted was someone to believe you. You had, after all, come willingly to see the marriage dissolved, and you seemed quite upset about not only being on Asgard, but about hurting Jane. At last, Thor relented. He bowed his head by way of apology. “I am sorry for creating more inner turmoil for you, then.”

The color in your cheeks faded until you’d turned quite pale. “I’m sorry, too,” you said hesitantly. “For all of this.”

“We’ll set things straight.” 

The two of you finished the walk to throne room in silence. What you were thinking, Thor could not say. The throne room came into view; two guards stood outside the double doors. Unlike the rest of the general populace, neither of them commented on the marriage. Neither even appeared to react to your presence at all. They simply bowed to him and opened the entrance, allowing you and him to step inside.

Odin sat at the far end, speaking in low tones to a servant holding a golden tray balancing a goblet. Thor walked ahead of you, painfully aware of how uncomfortable the meeting would be. After Loki’s betrayal, Thor hated to disappoint his mother, but he hated to disappoint his father more. There was no one else in line to succeed the throne. All responsibility for good conduct and judgment now rested upon Thor’s shoulders.

Upon you and Thor arriving and bowing in front of the throne, Odin continued the conversation for what felt like several agonizing minutes. Eventually, his eyes caught Thor's; he did a double take and turned his attention to his son with a smile. Thor stood and could only assume that you followed suit.

“Ah! Thor! I was hoping to see you soon. Good heavens, you would not believe the rumors I have heard since I returned.” He lifted his eyebrows and waited expectantly for an explanation that never came. Odin took the goblet in the quiet, dismissed the servant, and chuckled again. “Everyone is saying that you _married_ while I was away. A Midgardian!”

Thor glanced back at you, and then looked again at Odin. “It is not a rumor, Father.”

Odin’s laughter slowly died away. His eyes widened as they drifted toward you, then narrowed as they settled on Thor. “What do you mean, not a rumor?”

“There _is_ truth to the rumors, though I believe them to be quite exaggerated.”

“Exaggerated?” Odin repeated, and then looked at you with a wild laugh. “Is this the girl then? Come, come.” He gestured for you to step up the throne. “Let me see you. What family are you from? Good stock, I hope.”

Thor threw his arm out to prevent you nearing his father. “Father, I–She is of Midgard.”

The smile died quickly this time; Odin’s head darted between Thor’s face and yours. Thor watched on high-alert. He trusted his father not to do anything that would damage the relationship between Asgard and Midgard, especially after Loki’s ploy a month and a half ago, but he could not be certain just how angry Odin would be. Then, suddenly, the king got to his feet.

“You married a _human_? Against my express wishes?”

“It was an accident. I did not believe myself to be entering a binding agreement. We came to–”

“So you allowed yourself to be fooled? After everything that has happened with Loki, I certainly expected you to be able to see through deceptions–especially those crafted by a woman from Earth.”

“Father,” Thor wet his lips before continuing, “we came to have the marriage annulled. Neither of us wishes to maintain it. If you could just–”

But Odin would not hear him out. He let out a bark that quite silenced any of Thor’s attempts at protest. Thor was reminded forcibly of when he returned from Jotunheim and waging war on Laufey. Nothing he’d said then could fix things, and neither could anything now. Surely, though, he was not mistaken–not like he had been back then. Exile, he thought, must be coming again but–

“Guards!” Odin was shouting. “Guards!”

Before Thor could as much as blink, several of his father’s guardsmen had entered the room, including those outside the doors. They surrounded you and Thor, pointing whatever weapons they had been gifted with directly toward you. Thor had to give you credit: You did not scream. You did not even creep closer to him, the way Jane would have. Still, your face looked paler than usual as you stared down the shaft of one particular spear.

Silence roared through the room. Thor could feel himself torn by fear for your safety and anger at his father for threatening it. What did Odin hope to gain by this show? Thor glowered at him. 

“What are you doing?” Thor demanded.

“Take the girl,” Odin said to the highest ranking guard there. He did not spare his son a glance. “Place her in the dungeon until I can figure out what to do with her.”

As the guards drew closer, Thor grabbed one’s arm. He had foolishly left Mjolnir back in his quarters, and doubtless summoning it would only make the situation worse.

“What are you doing?” Thor asked, louder still. 

“She has made an attempt on the throne,” Odin answered, now resting casually in his seat. He flicked his wrist and another guard snatched yours. You twisted and tugged, still mute. Thor ripped you from the other man's grasp, but another of the guards grabbed you within seconds and yanked you several feet away from Thor. Thor looked around desperately, hunting for a way to help, but anything he could do would only get you hurt as well.

“Father–”

“We will speak of this after she has left,” Odin cut in. “Take her away.”

They did so. “Do not worry, [Name]!” Thor shouted. “I will fix this. We will set this right.”

He caught only a glimpse of your wide eyes before the guardsmen wrenched you around and marched you out of the throne room. Then the anger really overtook him. Thor whirled about and stomped up to the throne. One arm waved toward where you had disappeared.

“Father, you cannot just throw her in the dungeon,” Thor said, his voice quaking with barely suppressed rage. 

Anyone else would have been frightened. But his father? Not at all. He did not even look at Thor to answer, “I can and I will. If I had foreseen exactly how much you’d come to love Earth, I never would have sent you there to begin with.”

“You’d rather me still be prone to temper and violence?”

“Better that then allowing our realm to be ruled by mortals,” Odin said, finally meeting Thor’s eyes. “What does she know of ruling? Or of our people? You have allowed your love of a place to cloud your judgment. I suppose this Jane made quite the convincing argument?”

“That is _not_ Jane, and if you would only annul the marriage here, we could annul it there and nothing more would come of it.”

“But I can’t annul the marriage.” His father enunciated every word–a sure sign that his anger was burning at least as fiercely as Thor’s own. “You have made your choice, and now I must make mine. Mine must be for the better of the realm.”

“So instead you will have her rot in a cell.”

“If that is what it takes.”

A million retorts came to Thor’s mind, but he dared not voice a single one. He much rather would have settled the matter by violence, but he had learned better. Getting thrown off Asgard would only serve to bring harm to you, and Jane and Clint and Darcy besides. Hard as it was, he _had_ to hold his tongue, and the only way to do that was to get out of his father’s presence as quickly as possible.

“Where are you going?” Odin shouted after him. “We are not done!”

“ _We_ are. I am going to speak to Mother. If you cannot see sense, than I can only hope that _she_ will.”

His father could have stopped him. Instead, he merely humphed. “I wish you luck. She hasn’t been the same since I threw Loki down there.”

That, fortunately, was what Thor was banking on.


	6. No Need to Get Snippy

Before you could to do anything to prevent your situation from getting worse, your guards tossed you head over heels into a room darker and several floors below the one you knew. One second, you were watching Thor’s father get angrier and angrier; the next, you were more lost than ever. Your ears rang and your head spun as you peeled yourself off the floor. You could only stumble toward the opening through which you’d been thrown. It was difficult to tell through the haze of confusion, but eventually one fact broke through: this was not an opening anymore.

Your palms pressed insistently against what might have been glass, except that the material _almost_ felt like you could press your body through it and back into the hall. Instead, all that happened was a honeycomb-like pattern bursting from the points of impact..only to disappear seconds later in a golden sparkle. Panic struck you like a baseball bat to the head. You began to pound repeatedly against the cell wall with every ounce of might you had in reserve. This resulted in nothing more than a dull, distant thud.

“It’s not going to break,” said a quiet voice somewhere to your right. 

After another attempt at figuring out just what it was you were up against (nothing found on Earth, you could assume _that much_ ), you paused and slowly turned in that direction the voice came from. Sitting there, in a separate but much better lit cell, was another person: male, with skin almost as pale as chalk, and unkempt black hair that fell in tangles all the way to his shoulders. 

As you took all of this in, his eyebrows pinched together in a show of mock-concern. “Have you never been in prison before, or are you just an idiot?” he asked.

The answer to that question, of course, was “neither.” You might have had a wild hair, or two, or four, back when you were in college, but not enough to get you _arrested_. Whoever this guy was, his sudden appearance had startled you so much that you could not manage to say so. You tiptoed wordlessly across the rest of your cell. He continued to sit there on the floor with his back propped against the wall, almost tangible, though judging by his scruffy appearance you probably wouldn’t want to touch him even if you could have–and you could not. The blank-looking space between your cells was just the same as the one between yours and the hallway. It only took one smack to tell you as much.

“So you’re an idiot, then,” said the man. 

It was less of an insult than anything Odin had thrown at you, so you decided to ignore the jab. “How can I hear you if this…thing, is here?”

By then, your companion was starting to look bored. He ran his tongue along a tooth as he observed you, and allowed a single eyebrow to drift toward his hairline. “How else,” he said slowly, looking away as though your denseness pained him, “would the guards be able to mock us without opening the cells?”

“Guards?” you echoed, looking nervously over your shoulder. If they’d heard you pounding on the wall, well…that probably wouldn’t earn you any brownie points. When you turned your attention back toward the man in the adjoining cell, however, he was waving his hand apathetically at the ceiling.

“They’re stationed at the end of the halls, but they’ll drop by occasionally to say hello. Or maybe it’s just my special privileges that get me visits.”

Your nose crinkled at the “special privileges” bit. From the sound of things, you’d got sent to the Asgardian asylum rather than its dungeon. Given that you were sitting on a prison cell floor, talking through a wall to a fellow inmate about developing relationships with the men paid to keep you there, you probably belonged in the former anyway.

“Who are you?” you asked. 

He cut his eyes in your direction, then rolled them hard at the ceiling. “I believe social hierarchy dictates that _I_ ask that question before _you_ get to.”

What, so they had gangs in Asgardian jails, too? He didn’t look in too deep, but it would probably behoove you to not piss him off right off the bat. It could turn out that the two of you would be spending quite a lot of time together in the future. You took a deep breath before answering, “[Name]. [F Name] [L Name].”

To your surprise, the man let out a single bark of laughter at that. His seemingly-permanent frown twisted up into a wide grin. “[Name],” he repeated. “Does that mean you’re from _Earth_?”

You _really_ didn’t like the way he was looking at you, but you couldn’t quite figure out why. Besides, what sort of damage could he do with that barrier in the way? If he could pass through it, he wouldn’t be there. “Yes.”

That got you another laugh, one a bit longer than the last. “Then I shouldn’t need to introduce myself, should I? I am Loki, of Asgard.”

“Loki,” you said quietly, more to yourself than to him. The name sounded familiar, like someone had said it in passing very recently. Your thoughts raced back through the past several days since you had set out to meet Jane. Then it hit you: “Loki! Thor’s brother!”

His smile fell off his face like Jell-O thrown at a tree. “Really? _Really_? I come barreling into your pathetic little planet and destroy an entire city, and still the best you people can think of is ‘Loki, brother of Thor’?”

“I wasn’t aware you did any of that until you said so just now.”

“Do you live under a _rock_?”

“I’m a college professor,” you said flatly, “and if you didn’t succeed, I don’t see why it matters.”

“If you’re a good example of Earth’s populace, I’m almost glad I didn’t manage my takeover. To be king of a herd of apathetic morons would to be king of practically nothing at all.”

“Live and learn, I guess. Next time try taking over somewhere more pleasant.”

Loki snorted. “If I ever get out of _this_ unpleasant place.”

You had to agree with him there. Even though you had surely been incarcerated for no longer than thirty minutes, your hope of freedom seemed to diminish more rapidly with every passing second. Apparently being married to the crown prince wasn’t going to do you any favors. Hopefully Thor was trying to fix everything, but perhaps he could go back to Jane without worry with you down in the basement. _That_ would make any sort of rescue very unlikely indeed.

“Since I assume _you_ aren't down here for hostile takeover charges,” he got to his feet, but only walked far enough to collapse into a nearby chair, “what _are_ you in for?”

One look at your own living arrangements showed no such furniture. You had a bed, and it didn’t look nearly as nice as Loki’s. This only soured your mood further. “Your brother married me.”

Loki had, prior to this statement, been looking at a small stack of books sitting on a table near his chair. You must have shocked him out of it. “ _What_?”

“Your brother,” you said, just as slowly as he had spoken earlier, “married me.”

He stopped looking through his books to look straight at you. Since he had avoided doing so for so long, the intensity of his gaze almost startled you, and probably would have, had your capacity for being startled not already been long-filled. “What do you mean, Thor married you? You said your name was [Name], not Jane, so–”

“I am well aware,” you spoke over him, causing his features to fall again into lines of annoyance, “that I am not Jane Foster. No one has stopped reminding me since I got here, thank you.”

“Well, there’s no need to get snippy.” The smile on Loki’s face betrayed his amusement. You deadpanned back; that changed his demeanor not at all. "Tell me, how good _is_ my brother in bed?”

A very long pause followed this question. It felt as though your throat closed around any possible answer in astonishment. “ _Excuse_ me?”

Loki shrugged. "Just a matter of curiosity. I’ve heard from a few mutual ‘acquaintances’ that I am somewhat skilled where he is not. But then, I _am_ the one asking.”

"I’m not going to like you much, am I?"

"Oh, on the contrary, [Name]. Judging by your cell’s close proximity to mine, I’m sure that we’ll become fast friends. But you still haven’t answered the question.”

“I haven’t slept with him!” You threw your hands into the air, even knowing that your exasperation probably only added to your entertainment value. “He wasn’t supposed to marry me!”

“What do you mean, he wasn’t supposed to–Oh.” Loki chuckled. “Oh. Did Thor marry you by _accident_?”

The look on your face must have been answer enough. 

He threw back his dark head and laughed again. “That is _just_ like him. Tell me, how did you manage it? Put on a pair of puppy dog eyes and spin him a sad story about how much you _needed_ him?”

Loki’s words were closer to the mark than made you comfortable. Sounding defensive when you replied was just one more mistake on your growing list of them. “I wasn’t conscious for most of it.”

“ _That_ doesn’t sound like Thor at all.”

“I got drunk,” you hastened to explain. You weren’t entirely sure where Loki was going with that thought, but it would be better for you in the long run if no one could claim you’d slandered Thor’s good name. “He married me because he thought that would solve my problems and make Jane happy. I guess you all don’t have shotgun wedding chapels wherever it is we are, because he didn’t really get that those marriages are permanent, too, so we came here to ask your father to annul it, but he wouldn’t, and then he threw me down here because I’m mortal.”

Whatever you expected Loki’s response to be, it certainly wasn’t blinking, shrugging, and saying, “Odin has been quite volatile as of late. He sent _me_ to prison even though I’m his son.”

“His son that killed thousands of people on a foreign planet?”

“Realm,” Loki said lazily. “And I fail to see how that has anything to do with my punishment. After all, I only did it because he and Thor ran me off my rightful throne here. If it weren’t for Thor escaping his exile, I would still be the rightful king of Asgard.”

Was he crazy? He must have been. Loki spouted off his nonsense with an entirely straight face. Your current predicament did not really allow you to call any kettles black, but you were pretty sure that mass murders got punished, whatever their excuse or rank in life. 

“I–don’t think that’s how that works," you said.

“Isn’t it? History is written by the victors, [Name]. Had I succeeded in Manhattan, your history books would sing my praises, and–Mother?”

He froze, eyes riveted on something–or someone, more likely–behind you. Since you had been sitting on the floor while you listened to Loki’s crazy spiel, you had to adjust your entire body to see who it was. A blonde woman stood outside your cell, along with a burly looking man in armor that might have been part of the group that had dragged you from the throne room to begin. For the moment, her eyes were focused on Loki, not you.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Loki asked once he had regained control of himself. He stood again and walked across his cell until he was close enough for you touch, had the barrier not been in the way. 

His mother only smiled and at last shifted her attention to you. “Your brother requested I come retrieve his wife,” she answered.

If you and Loki had known each other longer, you might have caught his eye. As it was, you only said, “ _What_?” at the exact same time that he did.

“Yes, there seems to be a bit of confusion with how to handle Thor’s new marriage, and it is most certainly _not_ by sending the poor girl to the dungeon. Thor could not get his father to see reason, but I am fortuitously able to help correct the situation.” 

She nodded at the man behind her. He returned her look with one of stout confusion, but when her expression shifted somehow, he quickly came forward to pass his scepter by a place near your cell. The golden honeycomb pattern danced across the space for one brief moment. Then Thor’s mother moved her hand into where the force field had once been. 

“Are you ready to leave, [Name]?” she asked kindly.

Her coming to your rescue was such a stroke of luck that you had not the wits about you to even think to thank her. You scrambled to your feet (a feat made more difficult by the flimsy, silky borrowed pajamas you were still wearing) and practically leaped toward her. Thor’s mother only smiled at your clumsy attempt at hurrying before taking your arm in her own. She had only just begun to lead you away when Loki’s voice returned to him.

“You’ll get _her_ out?” he demanded. “But not me? Your _son_?”

She paused, then slowly turned on the spot. With your arm through hers, you had no choice but to follow suit. “There are things that I cannot overrule your father on. You know that.”

“Do you even _try_?”

Her face grew hard. “Now is not the time for this discussion, Loki.” 

His face fell. If you hadn’t just listened to him talk about how not sorry he was about killing thousands of people, you would have thought him close to tears. His mother’s face softened; she turned again before he could see. 

“I will see to it that more books are delivered to you soon. Until then, _do_ try to behave yourself.”

No further words followed you up and out of the prison. Once free, Thor’s mother released you, and allowed you time to blink the dazzling sunlight out of your eyes. The corridor you saw after looked nothing like those you had seen before, most especially since she and you were the only ones there.

“Are you alright?” she asked, once about five minutes had passed.

“Yes, I–” You…what? Were you sorry for inconveniencing her? Sorry for ruining her life by being her new daughter-in-law? Annoyed at how you had been treated since arriving at Asgard? _“Fine”_ did not seem to describe you in any way, shape, or form. Instead of finishing your sentence, you simply swallowed, and, with the knowledge that this woman might hold the only key to your escape, offered her your best curtsy.

“There is no need for that,” she said, though she inclined her head in return. “I am Queen Frigga. It is a pleasure to meet you, [Name].”

You could not help yourself. “Yeah. A pleasure. Sure.”

Lucky for you, the sarcasm did not get you kicked back downstairs. Frigga merely took you again and started to walk down the hall toward a massive open door. “Of course it is a pleasure. Thor is of marrying age, even if the circumstances were surprising. Everything will be put in its proper place, do not worry.”

Perhaps you could have listened to this sage piece of advice, had the sound of angry lifted voices not began issuing from the nearby room.

“So you go behind my back and explicitly ignore my orders! Last I checked, _I_ was still the king of Asgard, not you!”

“No one is trying to usurp you, Father. We are merely trying to prevent you from making a grave error!”

“Oh for Bor’s sake,” Frigga said, stopping momentarily to shut her eyes. A second later, she opened them, released you, and marched into the room. “What is going on in here?”

You dithered on the spot, but ultimately decided to follow. Where else were you supposed to go? Probably you’d only find somewhere you weren’t supposed to be, and then even the queen wouldn’t be able to help you. Once you found the place that held all that commotion, you found a well-lit, spacious sitting room before you. The colors seemed more suited to a woman than anything else you had seen on Asgard; outside lay a wide bed of what looked to be pink roses. More importantly, five other people were inside in various states of discomfort:

Clint and Darcy sat on a loveseat towards the back windows. They had clearly started at opposite ends, but were now close enough that their inner hands were nearly touching. Darcy was chewing on her lip; Clint was watching Thor threw narrowed eyes. Thor himself stood, arms splayed wide, his cheeks slightly colored. Jane perched on a chair behind him with her eyes as wide as dinner plates. Of all those present, though, Odin looked the most upset. His face was nearly the same color as boiled lobster, and he, too, was on his feet. Thor and he were standing very close to each other when Frigga interrupted.

“Father seems to think I plan to take the throne by force solely because I circumvented him and requested that you get [Name] out of prison,” Thor answered without taking his eyes off his father.

“You seem to think that you make better decisions,” Odin returned.

“In this case, I do!”

Frigga lifted one finger to her temple, though she did not rub at it. “Well, there is no use in arguing the cause farther. If you look up, you will be able to see that I have already retrieved your wife and she is in adequate condition.”

Both did as she suggested. Thor appeared visibly relieved, his father not so much. Odin's complexion grew redder and splotchier, but he said nothing to his wife. Maybe he couldn’t. But he could definitely say something to you, and did:

“I suppose you’ll expect me to treat you like my daughter-in-law,” he snapped–not exactly _at_ you, but in your general direction. 

Before you could respond, Thor stuck one massive arm out toward you to prevent your moving. “It is by your decision that she is,” he said stonily. 

That, more than anything thus far, seemed to get Odin’s goat. 

“You’re feeling clever, aren’t you, now that you’ve got your wife out of prison, but she’ll manage to get herself killed up here, and so will your other woman, and then who will you have to thank, Thor? No one but yourself.” Odin’s smile did not look the least bit amused. At least he had stopped shouting at everyone.

Thor’s jaw tightened. You noticed that tended to happen when things were happening to upset him.

“If this is about Sif, Father, I–”

“Well, of course it’s about Sif!” Odin threw his hands into the air, and then paced toward the window and back to Thor. Neither backed down. “ _She_ is not breakable, nor is she mortal, and she already has a name for herself, unlike the nobodies on Earth that you insist on cavorting with!”

“That is quite enough,” Frigga said sternly. She stepped forward to place a palm on both her husband and son’s chest, then gave them each a quick glare before pushing them apart. Glowering, she rounded on her husband. “You already knew quite well that Thor’s feelings for Sif do not extend beyond the platonic. Continuing to harp on the matter is surprisingly childish, as is sending an innocent woman to prison.”

“You think her safer up here, where anyone and anything could kill her?”

“You think her safer down there, where you keep your war criminals?”

“War criminals like your son, you mean?”

“He is _your_ son as well, if you will be kind enough to remember who brought him here rather than allowing him to die in the snow. But that is not the point.” Frigga took a deep breath. “Our relationship with Midgard is already poor enough after with Loki did, I will not deny that. You throwing one of its people into jail without so much as a trial, for something that was hardly her fault, certainly will not improve things.”

Odin gazed at her for a long minute. Darcy coughed. Jane hushed her.

“So I am to be overruled. Fine. Then let the chips fall where they may. The girl’s fate is not my responsibility.” With sharp, agitated steps, he moved to the door. “I have quite enough to be worried about, what with the Nine Realms at war because _you_ had to have the Bifrost back up again, Thor. _You_ worry about your mortals!”

With that, he slammed the door shut. Frigga stared after him. You assumed everyone else did, too, until a pattering of feet filled the air and you found yourself quite suddenly surrounded. Everyone but Thor, it seemed, wanted to make sure you had not sustained too much emotional damage from Odin's speech, or your time in the dungeons.

“Are you okay?” Jane asked as her arms wrapped around you in a hug. “I was so worried! If you got imprisoned because I invited you on a trip–!”

“I’m–”

“Woah, [Name].” Darcy came bouncing up. “And here I thought you were boring when we were in Las Vegas. Jailed before we were even here for twenty-four hours. I wanna party with _you_.”

“Darcy, now is really not the time–” Jane began, but just then Clint slapped you on the back and nearly sent you pitching to the floor.

“I’m just glad I don’t have to add that to my report. ‘Left a powerless girl from Earth behind.’ Natasha would _kill_ me.”

“Who cares what your girlfriend is going to do when you get home?” Darcy demanded. 

Clint’s face twisted with confusion. “Natasha? Tasha’s not my–”

Only when she cleared her throat did you realize that Frigga remained in the room with you–and Thor as well, though he made no attempt to get your attention. Jane took a step away, but grabbed your hand, whether to comfort herself or you, you could not say. Once everyone was looking at Frigga, she swept her skirts up and settled down on a large pinkish pouf.

“I am sorry,” she said, looking each of you in the eye, “about my husband. He has been under a lot of stress lately, what with the Bifrost repairs, and the Nine Realms getting agitated, not to mention what a blow Loki’s betrayal was.”

Thor bowed his head. What was that about, you wondered? But Frigga reached out to squeeze one of his shoulders, and the moment had passed.

“Thank you,” you said, feeling it was high time that you said something, no matter really what it was, “for getting me out of prison. I don’t mean to rush or anything, but how soon will I able to go home?”

“Home? I am sorry, to all of you, but I cannot overturn Odin on the marriage. I could release you from prison because there was no formal trial, and you are a visitor to this realm. Unfortunately, our marriage laws are very old, older than Odin himself. If he decides to uphold them, they must be upheld.”

“Wait,” Jane said, and you thought you might have heard a tremor in her voice. “Do you mean…?”

It was Frigga’s turn to bow her head. “Thor and [Name]’s marriage must stand. I know how this must hurt you, Dr. Foster, and I apologize on behalf of all of Asgard. My son loves you, and you must love him, too. But Odin has spoken.”

Jane quickly turned away from Frigga, but toward you. You saw her face crumple, and felt your heart sink at knowing that it was because of you that she was crying. Thor came to her side her before you could so much as move. She buried her face into his chest; the rest of you were left to watch her shoulders shake. After a minute or so of this, Frigga stood to walk sedately toward the little knot of people. Her hand gently smoothed Jane’s hair.

“I know it is not much of a consolation, but we must put together a ceremony that makes this marriage official in the eyes of the court and the rest of the populace. You and your friends are more than welcome to stay here until the ceremony is over" said Frigga.

“Oh! Free vacation at a palace!” Darcy squealed. You could not tell if she was excited for Jane’s sake, or just being her usual Darcy-self. “Come on, Jane! You’ve been talking about visiting Asgard for ages, and not _just_ for Thor.”

As everyone watched, Jane lifted her head before passing a sleeve over her nose. Her face was nearly as blotchy as Odin’s has been, though a much prettier shade of pink. “I–I don’t know.”

“Jane,” Thor said pleadingly. She could barely look at him.

“Thor has told us you have an interest in the Bifrost,” Frigga said. “As a guest here, you would have access to any materials and books you would need for your studies. Heimdall, I’m sure, would also being willing to help.”

Jane only bit her lip.

“Of course, if you do not wish to stay, we will not force you. I will arrange for all of you to be returned home at your earliest convenience.”

“Jane,” you said in a low voice, even though you knew everyone else could hear. “Please don’t go.” 

_"Please don’t leave me here alone"_ was what you _wanted_ to say, but you weren’t sure present company would appreciate the sentiment. But you already felt so lost and alone! You didn’t understand any of what was going on. Jane had _some_ experience with these people at least, and the thought occurred to you that you had never–not since college, at any rate–gone through any bad spell without her support. What you were supposed to do without her now, you hadn't the faintest idea.

She breathed deeply; the last traces of color left her cheeks. “Alright. We’ll stay.”

“''We'? You mean, as your intern, I get to stay?” Darcy asked.

“I’m going to need your help now more than ever, especially without Erik around to help.”

“Erik, shmerik.” She waved as though to rid the air of his name. “We were doing fine before he came along. We’ll do fine now, too.”

“And you?” Frigga asked, turning to Clint. 

He smirked. “If this lot is staying, I’m staying. It’ll be a hell of a lot more fun than what I’ve got waiting for me back home.”

“Then it is settled.” Frigga smiled. “Thor tells me you all were shown rooms last night. Excellent. You may retire there, or do whatever you please, until dinner this evening. If you have any questions, I am sure that any of Thor’s friends will be able to help you. For the time being, however, Thor, [Name], please follow me.”

Thor frowned at you. It was not the same angry frown from earlier in the morning, but it was clear that he was no happier about the predicament than you were–less, probably, seeing as how the marriage wasn’t keeping _you_ from being with someone you genuinely loved. You gulped at the thought of what he would say when you were alone, now that his last-ditch attempt at annulment had failed. Still, you could not disobey a request from your mother-in-law, especially this early in the game.

She led you and Thor silently but smilingly through the hallways. They were this empty, you realized, because they were the private quarters of the royal family. Your heart jumped into your throat. There was no time to ask where you were going, because no sooner had the thought occurred to you than did she stop in front of another wide door, causing Thor’s features to fall into another frown.

“Mother, why have you taken us to my quarters?”

“Do not be silly, Thor,” she answered. “Now that everything has been decided, you cannot spend your nights with Jane. She is a lovely woman, but the servants talk, and the people will find out. [Name] is your wife. She will be staying with you. Besides, I needed to speak to you privately.”

That boded ill. Thor caught your eye and had the grace to look nervous as well. Then Frigga opened the door behind her and stepped into the rooms beyond. They were even larger and nicer than the room you’d stayed in last night, but you hardly had time to take anything in. Almost immediately upon stepping inside, you were interrupted by none other than the woman that had led you and Darcy to breakfast that morning.

“Your Majesty!” Dalla practically smacked her face into the floor in her rush to bow properly. 

One corner of Frigga’s lips twisted upward, but she suppressed any other signs of amusement as soon as Dalla’s pale face resurfaced. “Dalla, good. You are already here.”

“Here, your Majesty?”

“Dalla will be your lady in waiting,” Frigga explained to you. “She is somewhat new to the palace, but this _is_ a new position, considering we have not had any princesses to worry about in a very long time. I have confidence she will do the job admirably.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Dalla glanced at you, looked quickly away, and gave you a twitchy sort of curtsy. With your mind already overloaded, you curtsied in return without thinking.

“Go make sure that all of [Name]’s belongings have been delivered to her rooms, and are properly situated.”

“Yes, your Majesty!”

Dalla ran off, her feet skidding against the tile. You thought you heard her hit the opposite wall rounding the corner, but neither of your companions reacted. Frigga simply remained quiet for nearly a minute, then sighed.

“Mother?” Thor prompted her. “You said you needed to speak to [Name] and I privately.”

“Yes. I hesitated to say so in front of your Jane, because I know you love her so, but things will have to start changing now that you are somewhat properly married.”

“Mother–”

Frigga silenced him by holding up her hand. “Tonight at dinner the announcement must be made officially. Afterward, you must treat [Name] as nothing other than your wife, and Jane as nothing more than a close friend. People will watch you, Thor, and any signs of your marriage being less than honest will get back to your father, and I shudder to think what he will do if given the excuse to do it. Do you understand?”

Thor opened his mouth angrily to retort, but thought better of it. His anger drained away. Looking downcast, he nodded once to show his acquiescence.

“I know it is hard, love,” Frigga said, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the forehead. Before she left, she turned back to you. “Welcome to the family, [Name]. I am sorry that things started off on the wrong foot, but I do hope you will learn to be happy here, eventually.”

She left, leaving you and Thor alone to your thoughts.

“Jane,” he said after several minutes’ silence.

“Jane,” you agreed hoarsely. Thor only stared at you, hard. You could not take it; you closed the gap between you and grabbed his arm. He recoiled at the touch. “This is hard for me, too, you know.”

“But not _as_ hard,” he said, and he was right. You took a step back, wishing more than ever that you could go home. Even your mother’s pity sounded like a comfort in this place where no one wished to sympathize with you at all. 

At the first sign of your submission, Thor brushed past you and wrenched open the door.

“Where are you going?” you asked.

“To explain things to Jane. You had better use the time to prepare. As of dinner tonight, we are husband and wife. I expect you to act the part as well.”

Alone again, you watched as the doors closed after Thor’s retreating back. You didn’t cry. You were far too scared and shocked to feel sad. All you could register was Dalla’s humming in the background, and that, whether or not you wanted to, you had no idea how to act like someone’s wife.


	7. A Bitter Pill to Swallow

Sif was not a late riser by any definition of the term. If the sun was up, then so was she. Most days, she finished her early morning training before the majority of those in the city were even awake. The silence never bothered her during her return walk; in fact, she welcomed the quiet stillness. Loyal though all four might have been, her companions were, as a rule, loud and rambunctious. The calm before the storm, Sif thought of her walk to the palace as: the final half hour wherein she was left to her own thoughts. Not so that morning.

To begin with, her thoughts were _not_ of the pleasant variety. Thor’s welcome home had lasted but for ten minutes hours ago, but for whatever reason, Sif simply could not get her mind to stop replaying it. _Married,_ she kept thinking. _He’s getting married_. Yes, she had known of Thor’s feelings for Jane Foster. Everyone on Asgard knew how Thor felt about his Midgardian woman. Yet Jane was not who Sif had lost to; it was someone else entirely. An attraction to Jane was understandable. She was clever and attractive in a mortal sort of way–but [Name]? There must have been something appealing about her, but Sif was lost as to what it was.

_Married_ , Sif thought again. Thor married was a strange notion indeed. The very idea muddled her mind. Though he had matured greatly since his brief exile on Midgard, she still saw him as the hot-headed, reckless warrior that had desired to take on all of Jotunheim with a band of six–much like the way in which Volstagg, Hogun, and Fandral still did not see Sif as a woman. She was male, if not entirely sexless in their eyes, which meant bringing up her feelings on Thor’s nuptials to them was quite impossible. Laughing at her was the _least_ they could do. Worse still, they might take the cause up with Thor, and she was not so boorish as to come between a man and his wife, or Thor and anyone he cared about unless that person had a good shot at harming him. Unfortunately, [Name] looked entirely harmless.

More unfortunately still, Sif’s hope of getting her mind off Thor’s new bride and all related dilemmas was sorely dashed. Unlike almost every other morning of her life, the city was buzzing with activity before she even set foot outside. Everyone was up and about and unusually cheery. The reason behind the cheer became apparent as she walked through the streets: Asgard’s prince had brought home a wife. The royal family had a princess at last. It took all of her strength to not roll her eyes at the general populace’s excitement at the matter, but she managed, perhaps a little too well. People kept insisting on coming to talk to her as though she should be _pleased_ about the situation.

“Lady Sif! What a marvelous morning,” said an elderly woman, toddling past her with a basket of food clutched underneath one thin, willowy arm.

“It is…beautiful,” Sif answered as she inclining her head in greeting. Surely this woman had places to be, errands to do. She would continue on her way. But just like the last twelve people that had stopped Sif in the street, this woman grasped her hand and pulled her to a stop. The woman's palms had been worn soft by labor, in stark contrast to Sif’s calloused fingers. Sif could have pulled away, if doing so would not have been tremendously rude. As it was, she was forced to stop and have the top of her hand caressed while the woman’s eyes twinkled up at her. It was quite disconcerting. “Are you pleased with the news?”

“I…” Sif found herself somewhat taken aback. There had been the occasional rumor that she and Thor were together that appeared on and off for centuries, but there had never been any _truth_ to it. Normally when such rumors arose, he would take another girl to bed. Why a _second_ woman was not helping in this case, Sif didn’t know. “I am very pleased for Thor, of course. Nothing could make me happier than seeing _him_ happy.”

Though this was very much an exaggeration, the woman seemed pleased to hear it. She beamed as she gave Sif’s hand a final pat and then finally released her. “Have you seen her?” she breathed. “Is she beautiful?”

Sif’s dark brows furrowed slightly. It was beyond her as to why the people of the city were so enthralled by Thor taking a wife. They themselves got married all the time. As for [Name]'s beauty: “I saw her only briefly. [Name] is…” she trailed away again. There were so many things a woman could be that weren’t beautiful: clever, or brave, or kind, or strong. She didn’t know you well enough to say any of those, though, so she had to simply finish with, “beautiful, yes.”

Her accompanying smile felt strained, but this did not seem to deter her new friend. “[Name]? So it is true? She is of Midgard?”

“As far as I am aware.”

The woman’s eyes closed. Sif stiffened; was she in pain? “A woman with such a short lifespan. But I am sure Prince Thor knows what he is doing.”

“I am sure as well,” Sif said, though she wasn’t. Spending several hundred years as Thor’s close companion had given her a much more accurate view of his mental facilities than most of his subjects. Thor was smart, obviously, but sometimes he didn’t entirely think things through. Sif’s companion merely sighed.

“So long as he is happy, I suppose. I won’t keep you any longer, my lady. Likely you’ll want to go get prepared for tonight’s ceremony.”

She turned to shuffle away. Sif’s hand shot out to grab her shoulder almost of its own accord. “Ceremony?”

The woman blinked up at her. “Surely you’ve heard, being so close to the family? There will be a feast tonight to officially introduce the new princess.”

“Oh,” Sif said vaguely, releasing the woman. “That. Yes. I…I should be going. Thank you for your kind words, madam. I will make sure to relay them to Thor as soon as I find him.” In a daze, she turned and started back up the crowded street. The old woman might have said thank you or bade Sif farewell, but she did not know. Her mind was full of one word again: _Married._ Her feet beat a quick tattoo against the bricks. To what purpose she was hurrying, not even she was aware. To put a stop to things? To beg Odin to reconsider? Both acts would be deplorable. She did not beg–and even if she deigned to, that would likely only upset Odin further. He had been remarkably volatile since Loki’s return. Sif would not have been surprised to find herself thrown out for merely _suggesting_ the king do things differently. She might have tried to get Odin to rescind Thor’s exile, but that was a different Odin, a different situation.

Thor must have felt something for [Name]. Surely even Thor was not so dense as to marry someone on _accident_. How to explain Jane Foster, then? He clearly still held feelings for her as well. Did he simply have feelings for everyone _but_ Sif?

Oh for Bor’s sake! It was not like Sif to allow herself to be so distracted. Coming to a halt, she squeezed her eyes shut. It was not like her to let _anything_ cloud her thoughts or judgment, let alone a man. There were hundreds of men on Asgard. With a proud toss of her head, she continued on her way. There was no need for her to fret. She had only to find Thor and…maybe she didn’t know what then. No, she realized, she was only in hurrying in the hopes that she might see him just once before the banquet. Perhaps this was all some rumor blown out of proportion by those living outside the palace. Perhaps all that was happening this evening was a feast before Thor’s friends returned to Midgard. Perhaps the marriage had been broken off. Odin had made plain his views on Thor’s love of Jane. [Name] would be no better–worse, since Thor seemed not to enjoy her company.

Crossing the drawbridge to the castle only made her worry all the more that the woman’s words were _not_ a false report spread by overenthusiastic subjects. The excited clamor in the city was echoed here, but with greater purpose. No banquet had been held at the palace since Thor’s return from exile. Every single member of the staff was bustling about in preparation, eager, it seemed, to be working for something celebratory again. Horse-drawn carts pulled loads of food up to the gates; young woman unfurled bright banners from the high windows; and when Sif finally stepped inside, she nearly trod upon the hands of a man scrubbing diligently at the floor. Walking around him was simple enough. The rest of the servants dashing this way and that, the aristocrats running about determined to discuss Prince Thor’s most recent bumble, and the young women desperate to find something eye-catching to wear despite their prey being captured at last, were not so easy. Everyone was in such a state that they hardly thought to look at Sif twice, let alone do so with the fear she was so accustomed to.

She would have complained of a headache brought on by this debacle, had her mind not been so focused on finding Thor in the tumult. He would not be difficult to find, she did not believe. If this was all really in celebration of his taking a wife, surely Thor would want to be in the middle of it all. Lamentably for Sif, though she looked for nearly an hour, she saw not one member of the royal family, let alone the one she was searching for. The thought of going to the dungeons to ask Loki occurred to her, as Thor was the only one that seemed the least bit interested in visiting his outcast "brother" these days, but the thought of Loki’s general unpleasantness if he had heard the news made her think better of it. She had no desire to be sneered at that day, and trying to show Loki what for would only land _her_ in a prison cell as well.

By that point in time, she felt something akin to nerves. small pricks started in her palms and worked up her arms. Sif was no stranger to nerves, but she also knew that she could control them. She had to, if she wanted to be an effective warrior–which is all she had ever wanted in her life. So what if she could not find Thor? He was already married. There was nothing she could do except wish him well, and if her quest this day failed, there was little chance of him missing his own marriage announcement.

She _had_ to get ahold of herself. Appearing before Thor upset over his marriage would hardly impress him. Admittedly, it had been decades since Sif had to worry about impressing Thor just to get him to allow a woman to stick around him and his friends, but the habit was still there. Most men of Asgard saw women as overly-emotional wrecks–though their own queen was a shining example of many women being otherwise. But by now, forcing all of her feelings into a part of herself that she could not readily access was habit to Sif. The act came to her without thinking, though at times it was more difficult than others. This was one such time, and the constant movement and noise all around her certainly did not help.

Her gait was forced into a stumble much more often than she would have liked, but eventually she did make it over to one of the balconies. Banners already spilled from its railing down toward the sparkling streets below; no one was like to bother her here. From this vantage point, Sif could see the city again, awash in colors and flooded with movement. As she rested her elbows on the ledge again she wondered why this was all such cause for excitement. Perhaps she would feel the same, if it were _her_ Thor was married to, or if he were married to someone he liked, at the very least.

“Jane, _please_. I know this is hard.” The familiar voice seemed to vibrate Sif’s very ribcage. Somewhere nearby was Thor, but just as she was about to turn toward him and announce her presence, another person began to sniff. “Jane, I am sorry. _So_ sorry. Had I known the pain this would cause you, I would not have–”

“Married my best friend?” finished an unfamiliar voice. Jane’s, Sif decided, though she had never heard Jane upset. She would not have surmised as much had Thor not said her name with Sif right there.

“I would not have come to see you at all!” Thor protested.

Jane let out a peal of bitter laughter that sounded as though it were coming through a thick wad of fabric. “So either I don’t get to see you because you’re married, or I don’t get to see you because you’re avoiding me. Great! Just–Just _great_.” If Sif were not very much mistaken, Jane’s words ended in a sob. Hearing women break emotionally was not an entirely new experience for Sif, but because she knew Thor, this was more difficult. She chanced a glance behind herself. If she moved quickly, then she could leave before either Jane or Thor knew she’d been there–but the hallway still was full and before she could take so much as a step forward, they were talking again:

“Jane, please. This is hard for me as well.”

“But not _as_ hard!” The words were so loud that Sif’s battle-trained body automatically shifted to get a good look at their source. Jane was on her feet, fists balled and shaking at her sides. “You’re _married_! To my best friend! And I’ve got _nobody_!”

“Jane.” Sif was frozen to the spot, forced to watch as Thor reached out toward her, face blankly tight but arms imploring.

“No!” Jane whirled about, took several steps toward Sif (who seriously considered throwing herself off the balcony to get away), then paused to hurl something else back at Thor: “I’m not coming to your dumb party! I promised Heimdall I’d come by to talk to him more about the Bifrost anyway. At least _he_ actually wants me around.”

“ _I_ want you around.”

There was a very long pause. The tension in Jane’s shoulders faded, as did her voice when she finally spoke: “That’s a problem, too.”

Before Thor could say or do anything else to keep her there, Jane turned and walked quickly into the overflowing hallway, head down so that she did not notice Sif standing there. Sif was not so lucky with Thor. After watching the back of Jane Foster’s head disappear around a corner, she turned back to see him slowing standing with his eyes straight on her. His jaw was set in that way that always indicated that someone was about to have their skull cracked open.

“Sif,” he said with a curt nod, stepping forward.

“Thor.” She inclined her head in return. This show of submission was normally passed on by the two of them, but Sif felt it best to start out on a more proper foot as she added, “I did not mean to eavesdrop. I merely stopped here to think. Had I known you were there with your Jane, I would have simply found another alcove with which to be alone with my thoughts.”

He only snorted, but to her relief, he did not brush past her. Instead, he crossed over to her to settle with his arms on the balcony railing as well. Sif did not turn to face the same direction. Eyeing the side of his face was enough to tell her that she was not in any trouble. After a few minutes of silence–many more than were typical for Thor–he ran a palm across the top of his head.

“I do not believe she is my Jane anymore.”

“Then it is true.” He glanced at her, forcing Sif to explain herself. “They are saying all of this,” she gestured at the continued ministrations of seemingly everyone that had access to the palace, “is to celebrate your marriage to [Name].”

Thor followed Sif’s gesture with his eyes; a look of dawning comprehension filled them. Apparently, he had not realized the plan had already been put into motion. After a long minute of looking, he redirected his gaze back out to the city beyond the window. “Yes. Mother has decided that announcing it would better protect [Name] from any punishment that might otherwise be enacted upon her.”

Sif blinked, then allowed her gaze shift to the buzzing city below. “By the people?” she asked. There had been no murmur of dissent among those _she_ had walked with that morning. The worst she had heard was an old woman’s worry that Thor’s wife would be gone too soon, but that was one woman unused to combat or life among Thor’s family.

He shook his head. “By my father.”

“ _Odin_?”

For a long minute, Thor was silent. Even Sif could see how tense the muscles in his shoulders were, as though he was expecting (or perhaps even desiring) an attack at any moment. When he spoke, though, his voice was quiet. “He may have refused to annul the marriage, but he also sent [Name] to the dungeons.”

“The _dungeons_?” Maybe Sif didn’t know [Name] very well, but it seemed out of the realm of rationality to send someone to prison for marrying someone– _and_ after they had requested to stop being married to begin with. “Why would he–”

For some odd reason, Thor suddenly looked even farther away from her, refusing to meet her eye. “To punish me, I believe.” In the quiet that followed, Sif waited for he to elaborate. He did not.

“That is ridiculous.”

He snorted at that as well. “Anyone trying to talk sense to my father these days is in over their head, I fear.”

“And yet your mother expects you to announce your marriage tonight while your wife sits rotting in a cell?”

“Mother is not as in over her head as most, I suppose. I appealed to her, she appealed to Father. [Name] is in my– _our_ –quarters now, presumably getting ready for the feast tonight, while I tarry here in the hopes that some flash of inspiration shall strike and make everything right once more.”

“Thor,” Sif said impatiently. Had she been younger, she might have gone as far as to stomp her foot. “You are the prince. The _only_ prince, after all that Loki has done. Surely there is _something_ you can do. It is your life. If not for _you_ , should your parents not be concerned about doing what is best for the realm?”

The unstated addition of marrying a woman from Midgard _not_ being what was best for the realm lingered in the air between them–or possibly just Sif mentioning Loki’s crimes. Thor’s mouth twitched into a scowl shortly before he shook his head and slid his hand off the railing.

“My life is no longer my own to live these days. Like it or not, I am still Odin’s son and subject.”

For the first time during this particular conversation, Sif allowed herself to frown. Who was this standing before her that sounded so utterly defeated? Where was the Thor that went charging into Jotunheim against Odin’s expressed orders, who stole horses and food as soon as he was old enough to leave the castle grounds unsupervised, who defied his father’s edicts at every turn if they so much as mildly inconvenienced him? She could not stand it, and lifted her chin slightly as she declared: “Tell me what you would have me do. I am _your_ warrior, not Odin’s.”

Thor shot Sif a wan smile. Though it was nowhere close to his normal grin, she took it. Many things had changed since his most recent return from Earth, but at least their friendship had not. “Since when do you take orders, Sif?”

Sif quirked an eyebrow in response. “You know I always follow them when it matters.”

“Well,” Thor let out a single, humorless bark of a laugh that stretched his face unpleasantly, “unless you can somehow convince my father to let me out of this marriage to [Name] and let her and the others go, I am afraid there is nothing I can command you to do. A pity, seeing as how another chance to do so will likely be another century in coming.”

At least the jesting in the midst of his frustration sounded more like Thor. Sif took a step closer to him so that, had she been desperate or cruel enough, she could have easily kissed him. It was not any easy thing to say but, “Then I shall do so. The worst Odin can do is send me away from here. He will not bother to send me to Earth after my brother has made his loyalties to you so obvious, and he dare not send Heimdall–”

“No, Sif.” Thor’s voice was gentle, but firm. “The Nine Realms are at odds. Father fears war will break out before they know peace again. If his prediction comes to fruition, Asgard will need you.”

“It will need its prince focused as well.”

“Do you mean to suggest taking a wife will distract me?” He almost looked amused at that. Almost. The smile stayed this time, at the very least, as Thor took one of Sif’s hands in both of his own. “Just attend the feast tonight. Between Jane’s refusal to come and my wife that detests me, I fear it will otherwise be a very lonely celebration.”

“You must be truly desperate to want _my_ company at a party.”

The look Thor gave Sif as he brushed past her into the throng was answer enough. He _was_ desperate. Of course, she would have gone to the feast regardless; it was expected of a woman of her rank, after all, and it would look bad if Thor’s company did not make an appearance for such an important event in his life. If she could get through his first almost-coronation, she could get through the announcement of his marriage. At least _this_ was not likely to be interrupted by Frost Giants breaking into the treasure vaults.

Much to her displeasure, this did require a different sort of garb. A coronation allowed armor. A wedding celebration required frills. Sif did not much like frills, and by extension did not much like the sort of parties thrown by Thor’s parents. Going drinking with her friends was one thing; it was quite another to be expected to eat and dress and prance before an appraising crowd. It did not help that so many men–warriors, at that!–believed that if she put on a dress and left her sword at home, it meant that she was giving it up entirely. She did not wish to spend an evening being looked at like a piece of meat. Thor frequently stood up for her normal attire at such events, but she could hardly ask him to do so that evening. She settled for keeping a dagger strapped to her thigh. It would hardly help if something serious came up, but it made er feel better to have a weapon all the same. Besides, if any man tried to get too friendly at the end of a dance, she could simply pull the fabric up enough for him to get a good look at the flash of metal.

Her preparation took her hardly an hour once started. Her appearance hardly mattered, really, as who would be looking at her when Thor’s wife would be there to gape at? Still she sat in front of her mirror for much longer than usual, putting actually arriving at the feast off for as long as possible. In the end, only her promise to Thor to go actually got Sif to do so. Her procrastination had one bright spot: it made it so that she was not the first to enter the hall, nor the last. The celebration was already in full-swing by the time she entered the hall; she was able to slip in entirely unnoticed.

The dance floor was already ablaze with swishing skirts and flashing metal. Enormous tables sat to the side, stacked with food still steaming from its cooking. Chatter (most of it in regards to the royal family’s recent addition) and music filled the air. Sif might have found it pleasant, had the situation not been so dreary for everyone personally involved. As it was, she found herself preoccupied by looking for some familiar person to settle down with, lest she be inundated by requests to dance. She had no desire to dance that night, yet the only person she spotted that might have been sympathetic was the Darcy woman, who was already dancing herself, beaming in the midst of two of men who looked terribly bemused. Sighing, Sif turned toward the food. If there was no good company to be had, what with Thor missing and perhaps his wife not even wanting Sif to remain at his side, she might as well pay her respects to his parents. Standing in line to do so would do a sufficient job at keeping away any who might want to ask her to join them.

“Your Majesties,” Sif said, kneeling as soon as she was admitted into Odin and Frigga’s presence. Watching on the way there, she had seen Frigga do nothing but smile and Odin do nothing but frown, so it was to the queen that Sif directed her greeting. “May I offer my congratulations on this momentous occasion? I hope Thor and his wife will be very happy, and rule this realm well in your stead.”

Again, Sif kept her head down. She was unused to such displays of submission, but Odin’s attitude as of late made her wary. Frigga, on the other hand, had always been kind to her. What was more, she had always been more than supportive of Sif’s desire to fight rather than stay at home having children. Thus, she did not think the friendliness in Frigga’s voice was feigned when she responded:

“Rise, Lady Sif. You know you need not kneel here. You are practically family.”

“Practically, but not family enough,” Odin quipped. Sif’s eyebrows rose while Frigga reacted not at all. If Odin really was as fickle lately as Thor claimed, Sif had to admire the queen’s ability to remain unruffled. Perhaps she was worried over what would happen to Loki if she commented; it was common knowledge that Queen Frigga had done a lot of talking to save her son from execution.

Sif remained kneeling before them, face blank, until Frigga took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

“We are very pleased to see you here. I am sure that Thor will appreciate seeing you as well.”

“I spoke to him briefly, earlier.” Several of those still waiting in line took up grumbling; Sif did not even glance at them. It did not seem a good plan to tell either of Thor’s parents of his complaints. She did not want to be responsible for sending Thor’s wife to prison a second time, so she simply continued, “Did I arrive too late for the announcement?”

Odin, it seemed, thought it best to pretend Sif wasn’t there. His eye fell upon something on the dance floor–Darcy, Sif presumed, though she dare not turn about to look–and remained there as Frigga took up the conversation in his stead. “Oh, no,” she said, brightly and to her credit, in Sif’s opinion. “That will come later this evening, after everyone has had a chance to speak to [Name]. There appears to be no rush, considering how fast the news has traveled. Everyone already knows Thor married a woman on Earth. The announcement is just to make things proper.”

The king muttered something that sounded much like, “Nothing about this is proper,” but Sif did not have a chance to double check. Frigga opened her mouth to either continue or request her husband put up a more cheerful façade. Right as she did, the noise in the hall plummeted. The music dropped away instrument by instrument, the chatter all but died, and Sif did not have to twist about to see the reasoning behind this sudden shift in atmosphere. The act was nearly impossible anyhow, with Frigga’s hand still on hers. Surely removing one’s hand from the queen’s was an act of treason? Slowly, Sif shifted herself so that she could see across all the heads of those below, straight to the doors at the end of the room. A couple stood in the middle of the wide-open space: a tall man wearing a helm with sculpted wings and a woman that looked pale and utterly out of place. Sif only just noticed they were holding hands when the man let go and the spectators immediately took up a roaring trade of conversation as though the lull had never occurred.

Sif’s eyes followed Thor as he made his way in her direction. She did not fool herself that she was who he was looking for, nor would she have wanted to be, what with how grim he looked. Frigga must have noticed Thor’s ruinous expression as well, for she released Sif with a gesture toward the woman still standing awkwardly in the doorway. “Go on. I do not want you to have to listen to this.”

Even if Sif felt she could have argued, she would not have. Thor had made it plain that he did not desire her help on this subject. Besides, she did not feel that he could reasonably expect to get out of his marriage now. Not after everyone had gone to all the work of preparing the feast and dressing for and attending it. If he wasn’t careful, he would find himself in the dungeon with Loki. She did not stay to greet Thor, and instead carefully picked her way back down to the floor, the opposite direction from where he was coming from. Once there, she found herself rather lost as to what to do. Food did not appeal to her, nor did dance or company. Frigga had suggested (or so Sif thought) that she go make herself acquainted with [Name]. Sif was not so certain that this was a good plan. If she recalled her days prior to meeting Thor correctly, women had the tendency to be a little possessive of the men they chose for their own. The queen may have held fast to the idea that Sif and Thor could maintain a friendship even after this event, but if [Name] did not feel the same way, Sif would not force her to accept her presence. Thor still might; however, even that was dangerous. She would not allow herself to come between a husband and wife.

Up close, you looked even more alien–an oddity, Sif knew, since she was the alien to you. Anyone looking to find reasons to dislike Thor’s wife would not have to look very far. There were shadows underneath your eyes on your otherwise [color] skin, and your dress, while spectacular, did not fit very well. That must have been due to the suddenness of the occasion; what choice would you have had but to wear something of Frigga’s? Your hair had been styled to match what was currently considered fashionable with the rest of the court, and yet Sif still found that you didn’t look very Asgardian at all. Perhaps it was the look of distinct discomfort on your face that did it. She decided to take pity on you, at last crossing the last bit of floor over to you and doing her best to smile.

“Our parties have sorely missed a sour face since Loki was imprisoned,” Sif said as you looked over to see her. “Yours will do quite nicely.” You threw her a look that plainly said that you had no idea that she was teasing. Not a great way to start out if she had any desire to remain on speaking terms with your husband–and she did, very much. Seeking to gloss over this moment, she inclined her head in yet another uncharacteristic bow. “Your Highness.”

“Please,” you said in a slightly strangled voice, “don’t do that.” Sif was surprised to see that you had turned slightly pink around the edges, but decided to humor you all the same.

“Of course. [Name], then?” You nodded. “I am Lady Sif.”

“Yes, you said as much last night.”

“I was unsure if you would remember. The excitement of today might have driven my name out of your head.”

“Excitement,” your voice remained barely quavering even when you forced a laugh, “I guess that’s one way of putting it.”

There were so many listening ears. Sif found it hard to believe that anyone would go as far as to desire to hurt you because they didn’t find you a suitable princess, but she did not want to give them cause to. Thor had asked her to be there for support, not to stir up rebellion. Thus, instead of aiding you in your complaint, she deftly changed the subject:

“Have you enjoyed what you have seen here so far? The palace is quite lovely in the summer.”

“My new quarters are quite a bit nicer than the ones shown to me this morning.”

Good Odin, were you so intent on ruining the feast’s entire purpose? Sif honestly did not want to open hostilities with you. If she had been thrown in prison for such a petty reason as marrying Thor, she, too, would have been upset, but surely they had explained to you why the announcement had to be made. Did you simply have a death wish?

“[Name].” Before Sif could ponder this very seriously, Thor returned, his hand outstretched toward you. You caught her eye, flushed, and looked down at your toes. You had seemed much more brash, confident, _angry_ the night before. Well, if Odin had wanted to accomplish something by sending you to have a nice chat with his disowned son, he could at least say he had managed to break your spirit. She lifted her eyes from you to Thor; he did not look angry. In fact, his expression looked soft, sympathetic, even, as he took the fingers you so stiffly offered him. Admittedly his voice sounded more emotionless than anything when he said, “You should eat. You have not had anything since breakfast this morning,” but Sif did not feel she could expect Thor to be entirely pleased about the situation. She tried to slip Thor a smile; he was gone before she could. Sif watched him lead you over to the high table with a mixture of pity and regret roiling in her stomach. Thankfully, she was not left to feel this sensation very long before she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“You will get your hand off me, sir, if you desire to retain your capability to create children,” she said loudly. A few nearby women looked over at her, aghast. The words did have the effect Sif wanted, though, as the hand quickly disappeared, allowing her to spin to face her assailant without ripping the flimsy fabric covering her skin.

“Lady Sif,” Fandral said with a flourishing bow. “Radiant as always.”

“And disinterested as always, Fandral.” Though Sif smiled as she said it, Fandral still lifted a hand to his heart in mock hurt.

“One day, Lady Sif, I shall crack through the ice around your heart.”

“Yes, because you did such a good job with Loki’s,” Hogun said. Fandral frowned.

“You know what I meant.”

“And you know what it sounded like.”

Apparently the rest of the group had decided to keep Sif company. Volstagg trundled up as this exchange happened, his usual plate heaped with food held steadily in one hand. He beamed and nodded at her, and Sif deigned to smile back. Volstagg had never once tried to make an advance on her, though his being happily married with a whole myriad of children might have had something to do with it.

“Good day to you, Lady Sif.”

“And you,” she returned. “How is–”

“Enough with the pleasantries. What are we going to do about _that_?” Hogun and Fandral had stopped their quarrel for the latter to wave his hand toward where you were now bowing before a cheerful Frigga and a dour Odin. Sif hoped you had managed to conceal your displeasure before being admitted into their presence.

“Do?” Volstagg repeated around a mouthful of roasted bird. “We’re supposed to _do_ something about it?”

“Of course. Thor is our friend. We fought for an end to his exile only to stand back as he is forced into a relationship he does not desire?” asked Hogun.

“If Odin desires it–” Sif began.

“Odin desired his exile, too,” Fandral interrupted. “And look how well _that_ turned out. Instead we had a madman for our king and he nearly threw us into war with _two_ separate realms. All that in less than a _week_.”

“I highly doubt that [Name] has the ability to start a war with any realm,” said Volstagg. “I spoke to her last night. She is a delightful young woman. The idea that she would want to start a war is absurd.”

“The problem with you, Volstagg, is that you are inclined to like everyone. Did it _look_ to you like Thor liked her?”

“It didn’t to me,” Hogun put in. Fandral sent him an appreciative smirk.

“Lady Sif. You have spoken to Thor, have you not? Tell me, does he not desire to be let loose from this marriage so that he has a chance with a woman he actually admires?”

It pained Sif to admit it, but “He did.”

“See?”

“But he also told me not to do anything about it.”

“ _What?_

“He says that Odin believes Asgard will be at war soon, and that we should all remain free and available to fight in it. There is no point in rescuing him from a marriage only to have him die in battle because we are not there to back him up.” This, Sif thought, would silence the lot of them. Their hearts were in the right place; even she ached to do something to allay Thor’s pain–but if he told them not to do something, they were not to do it. That was how companionship worked. For nearly an entire minute, no one said anything: Volstagg turned to watch the dance and chew happily at his food; Fandral frowned; Hogun watched impassively as one of the women near Sif fluttered her fingers at him. But then: 

__

__

“He is too damn noble for his own good after he returned from exile,” Fandral declared. “If Thor does not wish for _us_ to do something, then we must simply get _[Name]_ to do it.”

“You expect [Name] to force Odin to dissolve the marriage?” Volstagg asked.

Fandral rolled his yes. “No, you great _dolt_. That would only get Thor in trouble as well. Odin will not stop the marriage himself, that much I understand. However, if she leaves–of her own volition, mind–what is Odin going to do about it?”

There was silence again. Sif found herself only capable of staring. What sort of idiocy was this? Hogun, on the other hand, nodded as though in appreciation of such a plan. She was very nearly afraid that something would come of Fandral’s thoughts until Volstagg swallowed his food and announced:

“I do not like it.”

“You don’t _like_ it?” Fandral repeated incredulously.

“What you plan to do is to make a woman so miserable that she has no choice but to return to her family and friends at home in shame. I would not think a man such as you would be capable of such thoughts, Fandral.”

“She is already miserable, by the look of the things,” Hogun observed.

“And that makes your actions worthwhile?” Volstagg asked.

“Come, Volstagg!” Fandral clapped Volstagg on the back. “This isn’t just for Thor. It is for the realm! We can hardly hope to be victorious in this upcoming war of Odin’s if our leader is too preoccupied by the burden of marriage.”

“I would hardly call marriage a burden. I am very pleased to have such a lovely wife and wonderful children. Perhaps Thor will be pleased as well to have his [Name] and whatever children she produces.”

“He can have plenty of children while not being forced into the monotony that is a monogamous relationship,” Fandral said. Sif had long since learned that berating him for such an archaic view of women was a lost cause, and so held her tongue. Volstagg had not, and opened his mouth to protest. No sooner had he done so, however, than did Hogun put in his two cents:

“You’re missing the point. This isn’t because we think Thor would be happier unattached. He obviously loved the Jane woman. Maybe he still does.”

“Exactly,” said Fandral, and by then he was clutching Volstagg by both shoulders–an impressive feat by all accounts considering how small and thin Fandral was comparatively. “ _You_ might be perfectly happy with your wife, but look at _Thor_. Does _he_ look happy, Volstagg?”

Volstagg’s eyes followed Fandral’s pointing finger; Sif’s, though reluctant, did the same. No, Thor did _not_ look happy. He looked stiff as he shoved the remains of his food about his place, and though he and [Name] remained close, they did appeared miles away from one another. This was enough for Volstagg. She could swear she could actually see his argument crumbling around him. Fandral could, too, as was obvious by the way he smiled at Volstagg’s slumping shoulders.

“Alright. But only if you _swear_ to not be worse than necessary,” Volstagg said.

“Of course!” Now that Fandral had his way, he was practically beaming. It almost hurt Sif’s eyes to watch. “I have never met a woman that didn’t find me utterly charming even at my worse.”

Sif snorted, but no one paid her any mind. Why was she even there? She had put in her appearance, made an attempt at making [Name] feel comfortable. No one was likely to notice her absence from this point onward. Unfortunately, she did not feel that she could leave her friends without eliciting some sort of tedious commentary.

“Then it is decided,” said Fandral. “We will save Thor and Asgard in one fell swoop. Killing two dodos with one pebble, as the Midgardians say. Does anyone have any ideas as to how to go about impressing upon Thor’s lovely lady that she does not belong here?”

[Name] very clearly already felt that she did not belong here. This celebration in her honor was hardly likely to change that either. The only reason Sif lingered was so that she might hear whatever ridiculous concept the three of them came up with. She was not expecting Fandral to look right at her and for Hogun and Volstagg to wait patiently for her to come up with something.

“You could neglect to follow this foolish plan of yours right now,” she answered coolly. Fandral sighed.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re terribly unimaginative, Lady Sif?” he asked conversationally.

Sif shot him her sweetest smile. “Is _that_ how I managed to get all of your weapons away from you the last time we sparred? My utter lack of imagination?”

Fandral sputtered and turned hastily away. That was really all Sif needed. She had had enough. As the rest of them put their heads together and began to discuss in murmurs the best way to scare off Midgardian women that were obviously already frightened enough, she only lifted her eyes toward the glistening ceiling and turned her back on her three regular companions. She supposed she ought to tell Thor of their plans. He was not likely to appreciate them when they came to fruition. When she looked back out at the table, however, he was still sitting with you, still silent, still unmoving. Maybe tomorrow, she decided wearily, and she began to make her way along the edges of the dance floor out into the vacant corridors. None of them, Fandral, Hogun, nor Volstagg, would be able to come up with anything drastic before morning. Until then, all Sif planned to do was sleep. There was still the slightest chance that she could wake up and find this all a dream.


	8. There's a First Time for Everything

Thor gave up pretty quickly on trying to convince you to eat. Part of you felt stupidly disappointed about this–having _anyone_ concerned over your well-being was touching–but you mostly felt _relieved_. You could not have touched your plate of expensive meat if you wanted to. How could you consider putting something in your stomach when you felt you could barely get oxygen into your lungs? Every eye in the room was on you, or so it felt. The longer you did nothing of interest, however, the more people turned away to their previous occupations of dancing and eating and talking. 

Your gaze did fall once upon Darcy to see her grin, wink, and gesture toward Thor, but you looked away from her quickly enough to ignore that. Did she really think it was so easy? For Darcy, maybe it was. _She_ could sit up there, eat, schmooze, play nice with her new husband. You wouldn’t have wanted her in this position any more than you wanted to be in your position, though. The only person you wanted up here was Jane, and Jane was nowhere to be found.

You balled your trembling hands into fists around the tablecloth. It was the only thing you could do to distract yourself from the burning in your eyes and the churning in your stomach. Unfortunately, this was something that Thor noticed. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“I need some fresh air,” you answered, throat so tight that the words came out as a whisper.

“I think that would be ill-advised. If you could only wait–”

Already you were on your feet. If leaving would cause problems, then by God you were going to leave. Because what were you other than a problem? Of course everyone turned to look at you again, look at the stupid, gawky, out-of-place Midgardian woman that had drunkenly stumbled into their midst. _Let them look,_ you thought as you tried your best to walk primly to the balcony doors across the floor from the head table. What did it _matter_? Your father-in-law already hated you, as did your husband, as did your best friend. You had no one left to offend, so you might as well do what you damn well pleased.

You kept your back straight and your eyes forward until your hand found the doorknob. As soon as you pushed out onto the balcony, you allowed your face to crumple. Your back stayed the same even once the doors swung shut behind you. The sounds of music and laughter that you could not help but assume was at your expense cut off with a faint _click_. This allowed you to be alone a last, to finally cry…but you didn’t. You fixed your eyes on the sparkling, unfamiliar constellations above and tried to simply breathe.

Perhaps the oxygen up here wherever the heck you were supposed to be was thinner, or maybe it was cleaner, but whatever the reason, it made your head spin. Those distant pinpricks of light danced around you until you let out a long-held breath and allowed your forehead fall against your arms resting on the railing. “I really _am_ an idiot.”

“’scuse me, but this balcony’s already reserved for pity party, party of one? You’re gonna have to wait your turn.”

At this point, you were tired even of being startled by people. You lifted your head and found Clint perched a few feet away on the very same balcony you were supporting yourself on. He wasn’t dressed for the occasion. In fact, he was wearing the same clothes you’d seen him in last–you thought. Really, you hadn’t been in the best state of mind to notice such things lately. You wished you were. Now here was _another_ of Jane’s friends to disappoint. “What are _you_ doing here?” you asked dully.

“I could ask you the same question,” he answered. “Don’t you ever knock? Está ocupada.”

“No es un baño, asno.”

Clint smiled as he hopped off the balcony. “I’m impressed.”

You snorted, turning your eyes back out onto the view below. “Don’t be. Mom’s fluent, but I can only remember a few bits and pieces.”

“Just figured you could do with a bit of a boost. Mind if I ask what you’re doing out here for real? This is _your_ big shindig, isn’t it?”

“Why aren’t you in there? It _isn’t_ your big shindig, is it?”

Clint snorted, and rested his chin on his folded arms. “So it’s like that, huh?”

“Is it like what?”

He just shook his head. “You homesick?”

You tossed him a funny look. Why were you standing out here talking to Darcy’s flame when the guy that was supposedly _your_ flame was waiting inside for you to come back to dinner? “Why would I be homesick?”

“Dunno. Talkin’ about your mom, ditching your party, speaking Spanish. I wouldn’t blame you if you were. We’re a long way from home, and it doesn’t sound like they’re letting you go anytime soon.”

“Well, maybe that’s for the best. I was getting pretty sick of the place anyway.” Your attempt at sarcasm was sorry indeed; the look Clint shot you afterward was clearly pitying. He was nice enough to pretend he believed it, though.

“Mind if I stay?”

“Why do _you_ want to stay here?” Okay, so you hadn’t heard about the Avengers, or Jane’s superhero boyfriend, or said boyfriend’s crazy brother’s attempts to run the Earth over. But SHIELD you’d heard of–who hadn’t lately?–and weren’t agents bigwigs in the long run? Clint let out another single bark of laughter.

“Why would I want to go back there?” he asked, looking more amused than anything. “My best friend just wants to give me a lecture, and I’ve got a feeling my boss is pret-ty pissed off at me. It’d be best to lay low until they get over it. Say a few months?”

“Yeah, well, everyone here is pissed off at me, and my best friend probably won’t speak to me ever again,” you sighed. “Why are you asking _me_?”

“Well, you’re the princess, aren’t you?”

“Hardly.” Despite yourself, you chuckled. “You want to be princess?”

“If it’ll get me to stay, sure,” said Clint. “Though I’m not sure I can pull off that outfit.”

That had you laughing. The feeling was so alien at this point that it almost hurt. You reached over to shove Clint on the shoulder. “Stop it. You’re making me laugh.”

“Good. You could use a laugh, I think. Unless you met Thor’s kid brother down in the basement?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s a laugh riot.”

“I thought so, too,” Clint said. “Well, if _he_ didn’t make you laugh, at least I could. If I move here permanently, you’d be my princess, too, eh?”

“Don’t let Darcy hear you saying that,” you muttered darkly. He laughed again.

“What does _she_ care? Having the time of her life with two brawny alien guys. I bet she feels like a princess already.”

You had a pretty good idea of what Darcy felt, and it wasn’t like a princess. If anything, her ecstasy at the moment had more to do with successfully making Clint jealous than getting some grinding in with a couple of benevolent war gods. But you weren’t about to let Clint on to that notion; you had enough romantic problems of your own to worry about without playing matchmaker for those two knuckleheads. So instead of bringing any of that up, you shook your head.

“What would you even do here?” you asked. He shrugged a second time.

“Court jester? If I can make you laugh, that’s the hard part. Thor laughs at pretty much anything.”

You turned a quizzical eye to Clint. That idea didn’t jar at all with what you knew of your husband. Thor appeared to you to be hot tempered and cranky. Then again, you had just married him against either of your wills. You probably weren’t the best person in the world for him to turn to for laughter, let alone anything else. Clint and Thor were friends, however; you didn’t expect Clint to appreciate your point of view any more than anyone else around here did.

“You’ll have to ask him, then. I don’t think the in-laws are going to be keen on me making decisions on anything anytime soon.” Or ever.

“Bummer. I could get behind not making decisions for a while, though. Suppose we could trade outfits and lives? I don’t think I’d look as beautiful as you do, tho–”

Clint broke off as the double doors leading to the balcony opened. Light and laughter spilled out from behind the dark figure standing in between. When he stepped closer, you could see he was one of Thor’s friends: the blond one, the one you remembered that you didn’t particularly like.

“There you are!” he cried delightedly, his eyes falling upon you. Then he saw Clint, and smirked. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you answered with a scowl.

“No need to hide anything. Polygamy goes both ways. If our beloved ruler may have a wife and a lover, I see no reason that you should not have a lover and a husband yourself.”

“We weren’t doing anything. Just talking. Like friends do,” Clint said, coming to your rescue. You offered him a thankful smile, which on second thought was probably a bad idea. Fandral’s lips twisted up in a smirk even as he made a polite bow in Clint’s direction.

“Of course. Pardon my mistake.”

“There any reason you’re out here, too?” Clint asked conversationally. “It’s getting a little crowded out here. We’d rather commiserate in peace, if you don’t mind.”

“Commiserate!” Fandral cried, in what was obviously the most fake dramatic voice he could manage. “And why might the two of you be commiserating, may I ask? And why together?”

“He was here first,” you grumbled.

“You wanna join in?” Clint asked.

“Oh, no. I would never _dream_ of commiserating on such a wonderful night. One of my best friends is married. What is there to mope about?” Fandral chuckled to himself, shook his head, then fixed you with a gaze much more sober than you expected. “I came out here to find you, in fact.”

_That_ didn’t bode well. Still, you kept your narrowed eyes glued to him. You didn’t need Fandral to find out just how good he was at getting under your skin. “Why do you need me?”

“It is not _Iis_ rather past time, you know,” Fandral said.

“Time for _what_?” you demanded.

“Why, time for you and your husband’s first kiss.”

“Oh, jeez,” came a faint voice from inside. “Excuse me. I said excuse me!”

You knew that voice, much to your dismay. Sure enough, out of the close-packed throng Darcy appeared, shoving and grunting until she finally popped out from between a couple of women with raised eyebrows. She seemed not to notice the attention she had elicited, pausing only to adjust her fancy (Earth) dress with a small “humph” before stomping up the aisle over to where your trio was standing so very cozily. “[Name],” she hissed, as though everyone on the entire planet (or in the entire Realm, _whatever_ ) wasn't already staring at her. 

“What, Darcy?” you asked at normal volume. She glanced around herself, then picked her way slowly over to where you were standing by Clint. As was the norm at this point, she loftily ignored him.

“You’re wanted inside.”

“I already _told_ her that,” Fandral said.

“And you did a great job of it, seeing as she still isn’t inside,” Darcy said. “You really have no idea how to convince a woman to do anything, do you?”

Fandral spluttered for a split second, just long enough for Darcy to hold her palm out to him. “Look, Wesley, I don’t want to hear anything outta that mouth unless it’s 'as you wish.'”

“My name isn’t _Wesleycrying_ or anything, so just get out there and do some making out, and then you can go to bed, okay?”

This was somehow _better_ than Fandral’s condescending urging from before? Darcy’s continued tugging on your hand eventually got the best of you. Either that, or the crowd you knew was waiting silent on the other side of those doors did. God, you’d given lectures before, discussions on articles, but almost always with a few mouthfuls of schnapps or the like, and never in some alien dress that felt like it was precariously close to falling off. You swallowed around your suddenly dry mouth and threw one terrified look at Clint. He wasn’t even looking at you. His soft eyes were on Darcy’s back. Of course.

“Ah, [Name], if you have a moment?”

Darcy shot Fandral a look, but he wasn't watching her, and with his arm across the door and his presumable Asgardian strength, getting though him would be impossible until he got what he wanted anyway. You looked at him with as much disdain as you could muster. As usual, the only effect that this had on Fandral was his finding you more amusing still. He curled his mustache with a flourish and made you yet another tiny bow.

“No need to look like that, your highness. I wished only for a bit of your time tomorrow afternoon. Volstagg, Hogun, and I feel that it would please Thor greatly if we were to make sure that his wife felt welcome. Surely you could not turn down such a request?”

You could. What was more, you would. But not right now. Later. _After_ you had got through this next humiliation. _After_ you had the chance to find out what spending a bit of time with Thor’s friends would really entail. _After_ you tried again (without really trying) to be so off putting that these people would _have_ to let you go back home. Going home had been humiliating when you had set out from your abandoned apartment on Earth, but now it seemed the best thing that could happen to you.

“Yeah, yeah, pencil her in for two o’ clock,” you heard Darcy grumble. “Now get out of the way!”

Fandral lifted his arm, and, with one final tug, you and Darcy stumbled through the doors. Your little huddle out there seemed to have bored the crowd, because they had returned to milling about. This was an unspeakable relief–or it might have been, had Fandral not followed the two you in and cleared his throat. The sound got the attention of those closest to the balcony. His decision to shout, “Ladies and gentleman, may I present the Lady [Name]?” got everyone else’s.

You felt the familiar prickling of nerves at the ends of your limbs. Suddenly the walk up the makeshift aisle and up to where you had been picking at food with Thor seemed a lot longer. If this prickling went on too long, it would be a wonder if you could make it three feet before passing out. But you would not run. You would not make yourself more of a fool in front of those people–especially not Fandral, whose smug smile you swore you could _feel_ aimed at even your back. Knuckles pale around the skirt of your Asgardian dress, you took an enormous breath, set your eyes on your husband, and took a step.

Walking was something you were capable of doing, and doing better sober. With this in mind, you forced yourself to take another step, and another, and another. Soon you could no longer feel Darcy hovering behind you, just the hundreds of eyes on your stiff shoulder blades and face. Slowly, the visages of your new family came into better view: the impatient, sharp scowl from Odin, the soft; sympathetic smile from Friga; and the stiff, almost frightened expression of Thor. As your first foot reached the raised dais, someone in the back of the throng began to clap. Several more started up when Thor took your hand pulled you over to his side. It seemed a real round of applause was about to start–until Odin stepped up to the plate.

He kept his eyes purposely away from you. Surely you weren’t just imagining that. The room grew so quiet that you could have heard a fork drop. You almost wished Darcy would drop one just for kicks. Of course, this was the one time that she remained a part of backdrop. Seconds passed. A bead of sweat ran down the side of your face. If you sprinted from the room, how long would it take them to find you? No. You swallowed. Peeking at Thor’s expression let you see it flat and dull, the first time you’d ever really seen it like that. Around Jane, he was all smiles. After ruining their lives so thoroughly already, how could you make things worse by trying to hide? He’d have to come after you; Odin would make sure of that.

With so many eyes on you, you couldn’t close yours. Instead your fingers tightened around Thor’s hand so hard that any normal man would have flinched. _He_ didn’t. _He_ didn’t even seem to realize you were there, so focused was he on what his father was about to say. Maybe Thor still hoped Odin would see sense and let the two out of this. Surely your behavior at this gala hadn’t done anything further to endear yourself to your father-in-law.

“Friends,” Odin said stiffly, “family.”

Oh, cripes. For _real_? They had bad speeches in this Realm, too? Were there _any_ benefits to being stuck here? You wished you’d kept your old apartment instead of ditching everything to have one last hurrah with Jane before going home. That last hurrah really had been doozy. Not that things had been going stellar _before_ Garrison ditched you–but it was better than _this_.

“We join here this evening to celebrate the rather… _sudden_ union of my son, Prince Thor.”

A few voices rose in the back; your eyes flashed over to see Thor’s friends cheering. Sif was noticeably absent. You had seen her earlier, but it wasn’t like you were friends with her, or that she any obligation to be present. This didn’t seem any more _her_ type of party than your own. But you were getting distracted, and Odin continued to drone on:

“Though we do not know much of his chosen consort, we do understand that she is from Midgard, and therefore her life is fleeting and frail. As it is, Prince Thor has promised to love and protect her for what remains of that fleeting life.” Terrified enough of the sea of strange faces turned up toward you, it didn’t take much to convince you to turn and shoot your father-in-law a glare. As it turned out, this did nothing to effect any Norse god, let alone their king, and he didn’t falter once in his speech. “We ask that you as well cherish her, as long as she is with us. Without further ado: Prince Thor, and Princess [Name].”

Your stomach gave a horrible lurch at the word princess. All of this was like a horrible twisted reality of a dream you’d had only in your youngest years. Only instead of a ball gown, you were wearing an ill-fitting dress lent to you by your mother-in-law. Only instead of your hair done all up in curls, it was pulled up in some entirely non-flattering alien style. Only instead of marrying your true love that you met at a ball while escaping doing your chores, you were marrying your best friend’s boyfriend that you’d met drunk while trying to escape all your poor choices up to that point. If you ever met your fairy godmother, you were going to give her the swiftest kick in the ass she’d ever received.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” called a familiar someone in the back. “Kiss her!”

Little though you knew your acidic look would do to Fandral, you still tried to find him the crowd. The attempt did nothing but make you more nauseous. Out there, your friends’ faces seemed to stand out the most. Darcy looked close to chewing on her fingernails–with stress or anticipation, you couldn’t say. Clint had actually bothered to come inside to watch, much to your distress. All you could say that was good in the situation was that Jane wasn’t around. Your heart gave a painful squeeze, but you had no time to mourn the loss of younger dreams of having her around for a wedding. You were just glad she didn’t have to see what followed: Thor gracelessly bent to push his lips against you.

The kiss was awkward. The kiss was hard. His hands moved up to grip your upper arms when those watching murmured appreciatively. Thank–what did they say here? Odin? Bor?–whatever deity these people had that there was no tongue action involved. The kiss was long, but void of passion, though when you finally broke apart, Thor’s face was as pink as yours felt. Someone (you suspected Darcy) started a slow clap that grew and grew until Thor and you stood surrounded by a throng applauding you both for something you’d probably done more skillfully with more beloved people hundreds of times before. Embarrassed, all you could do was cling to his hand while you waited for this agonizing evening to draw to an end.

End it did. Whether or not your mother-in-law simply desired to take pity on you, or because she could read your mind and knew how close you were to starting to scream like a deranged woman, she fluidly came to stand in front of you and Thor to smile graciously at the guests.

“Thank you ever so much for coming,” she said. “I hope you all have had lovely evenings. You are welcome, of course, to stay however long you like and partake in the food and drink. On my part, I believe it is time to turn in. With your blessings, my lord.” She swept Odin a curtsy that he returned with an annoyed wave of his hand. After turning back to the guests and bowing her head to them, Friga walked gracefully of the dais and disappeared. Thor waited only until he could be sure his mother had left the room before he looked at his father.

“We are leaving,” he told him. When Odin scowled and opened his mouth, Thor spun away. “Now.”

You were sure that this wasn’t going to win you any points with your new father-in-law-slash-ruler, but at this point you were desperate enough to be gone yourself that you didn’t argue. Thor lifted an enormous hand to wave at his guests. Hesitantly, you waved as well. This was met with a few titters from the corner of the room you’d last seen Darcy and Thor’s friends in. Then, with your hand still in his other, he turned to lead you from the platform. For once, you followed eagerly, even when Thor continued on in silence. At least that gave you the opportunity to check behind you ever few paces to make sure that no one was following. No one did. And even if they had, he seemed so intent on getting the two of you elsewhere that he wasn’t likely to have stopped no matter who they were.

When he pulled to a stop at last, you were surprised for a moment to find yourself back in front of his quarters–a testament to how tired and frazzled this whole ordeal had made you. Of course he had brought back you back to his quarters. They were also _your_ quarters now.

The thought made what felt like a bucket of ice cascade down your insides. You had no idea if the concept of a honeymoon meant anything to Asgardians, but–oh no. You weren’t prepared. It wasn’t even a matter of being physically prepared; you _really_ didn’t think you could mentally handle sleeping with Thor that night, or any other time for that matter. Jane still had to be in love with him. How could you betray your best friend like that?

You anxiety came to an abrupt halt when you noticed that Thor had already abandoned you by the doorway and headed in the direction of what you assumed (having only seen your own bedroom and bathing area) was his bedroom. Suddenly you were completely alone. Having been around people all day, you would have thought you would enjoy the sensation. Unfortunately, now that it came, you found yourself almost terrified at the thought of being left to your own thoughts and feelings, especially considering what you had just left: the scene of your very first kiss with your husband. After pausing to make sure that Dalla wasn’t lurking somewhere behind you, you scurried after Thor through the massive sitting area.

“Can I help you?” he asked as you fingers brushed softly at his admittedly impressive bicep. Immediately you remembered where your thoughts had been headed before he’d left, and you turned what was sure to be an impressive shade of dark pink.

“Where are you going?” you asked instead of answering. As impressive as Thor probably looked naked, you weren’t in the mood to see that, not now–possibly not ever. He lifted his eyebrows.

“To bed,” he answered, as though this was obvious.

“Oh. Uh…”

“Your bedroom is that way,” he said, pointing back the way you had come from.

“No, I know that. I just…” you shrugged. To Jane you might have been able to admit that you’d never been able to handle this amount of stress on your own. You hardly knew Thor, though, and the way Garrison had reacted to your clinginess didn’t make the idea of confessing to your strange new husband appealing in the slightest. When you did not make to explain yourself, Thor shook your hand off his arm and took a step into the bedroom beyond the doorway.

“We are married. That I accept. We will stay that way because it is the only way to make sure my father does not behave rashly, and the only way to keep the Realm together. What I do not have to accept is us being any more than that.”

“Meaning?” 

“Meaning I have my room. You have yours. They are still 'our' quarters. My father will have no reason to complain.” His face was like that of a statue. You felt your own warming quickly. Back to square one, then: Thor thought this was your fault. As though he could read your mind, he softened somewhat. “I am sorry, [Name], but I do not love you.”

“Not that it’s any big secret, but I don’t love you either. We’re sort of stuck, though. I’m not asking for a honeymoon. Just–you know, some companionship would be nice.”

He paused, then shook his head. “Not tonight.”

“But–”

“We will figure things come the morning. For now, all I desire is to sleep. You should sleep as well. I doubt you slept much last night, and I am sure that tomorrow will be just as trying as today, if not more. Goodnight, [Name].”

Without waiting for you to complain, he closed the door behind him. You stood there for another minute or so. Why, you didn’t know. Thor didn’t come back, and you weren’t sure if you wanted him to anyway. Your hand reached out for the knob, but you never found out if he had gone so far as to lock you out. He was right. This _was_ your fault. If you had never intruded on his and Jane’s vacation getaway, they would probably still be snuggled up in bed back in Vegas, enjoying room service for breakfast.

You turned away with a sigh to trudge back to the other bedroom- _your_ bedroom, you recalled once you had found your things on your bed where Dalla had placed them. There you were, a tiny speck among a huge room and huger quarters with nothing that belonged to you save for the tiny pack in your hands. Sleep wasn’t going to come easy here, that was for sure. As you slipped out of the room, you pulled your cellphone out of the bag. Having a sleepover with Thor was out. Maybe Jane felt just as desperate for company as you did.

>i>"Did u get ur bridge stuff worked out?" you typed into the phone. As you did, you settled onto the comfortable couch back in the living room. At least this room wasn’t “yours” exactly. You felt less like you were being watched there, and less like Dalla was bound to pop up at any second to ask if you needed anything. Maybe you could even sleep. Staring at your phone screen, you felt your eyes start to itch with exhaustion, but you wanted to talk to Jane so badly. You waited. And waited. And waited. _"Message failed to send."_ Sighing, you rolled over and let your dying cellphone fade back into darkness. No service in Norse God space. Just figured. It wasn’t like Jane was going to talk to you anyway, right? For now, all you could do was soothe yourself with the idea that you’d talk to her in the morning. Jane always made things better. Always. And then there was that meeting with Thor’s friends.

Crap. Thor’s friends.

No more thinking for you that night. No, you put your phone down and rolled over. Even then in the dim light, it took you hours to finally drift off to sleep.


	9. Four is Company

Alone. You had never felt more alone. Just four months ago, your life had been…right. A good job. A good fiancé. A good apartment. One phone call was all it took to ruin all of that. Maybe it had been naïve to believe, as you stood among your packed moving boxes to watch the rain outside the window, that you would not be truly that alone ever again. Yet there you were, alone in the Bifrost chamber, with no one around but Heimdall, who had shown very little interest in speaking to you at all that morning. 

“I don’t suppose,” your voice echoed throughout the room, “you could send me home?” 

“The king has decreed that I open the Bifrost only on his command,” Heimdall rumbled. 

“Figures.” 

To that, Heimdall had no reply. If you hadn’t felt so lonely, this would have been a real relief. Everyone _else_ in Asgard seemed to have no shortage of things to say to you. Approving of your sham of a marriage or not (and you suspected the majority of them did not), an awful lot of Asgardians—from great to small—had ideas, suggestions, desires, and needs that they apparently felt you were in a position to fulfill. This was foolishness in the extreme. You had not grow up in a royal court (even if your family _had_ been relatively well-off), and had no clue how to handle your new position. If you couldn't walk well enough in your new clothes to not trip everywhere you went, they could forget you _speaking_ well enough to gain them any favors. 

Perhaps these—people? Were Asgardians people?—might have left you alone if Thor had been nearby, but your husband was nowhere to be found. He had left your quarters before you woke, which did nothing to explain how you wound up in your bed after falling asleep on the couch in the front room. There had been plenty of wine at your wedding party, yes. Had you risked drinking any? Absolutely not. Once you'd crawled out of bed, you found that Thor hadn’t been in the dining hall either, and even Sif had no knowledge of where he’d gone off to when you’d hazarded asking after running into her while lost in one of the palace’s many halls. 

Was it any wonder you had retreated to the vacant Bifrost gate? You were _desperate_ for company that didn’t _want_ something from you. You weren’t _quite_ desperate enough to go searching for Darcy, but figured that Jane _must_ have been doing research with her new best friend. She wasn’t. Heimdall might have done for that company anyway…if he wasn’t so taciturn. 

“Do you know when Jane might get here?” you asked. 

“We did not set a time for our appointment.” 

Silence again. No sound of feet crossing the bridge in your direction. With a sigh, you turned to make another loop of the room. You stopped in front of the piston you remembered spewing light upon your arrival. Your gaze slid toward Heimdall. His gold eyes stared steadily back. After a moment’s hesitation, you lifted a hand, were not stopped, and touched the smooth, gleaming shape. 

“How does it work?” you asked. “Obviously there’s a key or a starting mechanism, but what is the light _composed_ of?” 

Heimdall regarded you quietly, then said, “You do not need to pretend to me that you have an interest in such things. I see everything.” 

Color rushed instantly to your cheeks. Even here, in another _realm_ , people questioned you. “I am a scientist,” you said indignantly. Your tone had no effect on your companion. 

“You _were_ a scientist. That does not necessarily mean you took joy in science.” 

For a moment, you stopped short. “When you say you see _everything_ —“ 

“I _mean_ everything.” He nodded his great horned head. “You are not Jane Foster. You are [F Name] [L Name]. Such things are required for the universe to function as it must.” 

“Seeing everything must be…awkward,” you said with as much delicacy as you could muster. Anything to get the subject off of yourself. It looked like Heimdall understood your veiled implication. If you hadn’t known better, you would have thought you saw him _almost_ smile before he turned his back to you. 

“It can be. Do not worry,” he added, “I have no plans to tell King Odin that you and Thor have not consummated.” 

Again, you turned cherry red. Heimdall had _definitely_ understood your veiled implication. “He’d probably prefer it that way,” you mumbled. But the conversation, brief as it had been, was over. He did not reply. He didn’t have to, because the next moment you heard the footsteps you’d been longing to hear. 

“Okay, Heimdall,” Jane called as she came into view, “I’m ready to—oh. You have company.” 

You got the feeling that _this_ round of Heimdall’s silence was to allow you and Jane to size each other up. What little color had not already rushed to your cheeks raced to them then. Jane, meanwhile, looked so cold that you might have mistaken her for a statue. She had never looked at you that way before. As far as you knew, she’d never looked at _anyone_ that way before. Then she blinked, looked away, and appeared again like her usual self. 

“Going somewhere?” you asked, forcing your tone to remain light. Jane did a double take, as though she were _surprised_ you’d noticed the suitcase she was rolling behind her. Now _she_ blushed. 

“Oh, you, um…saw that.” 

“I’m not blind, Jane.” 

This was a good opportunity for her to retort unkindly. Accidental marriage or not, you deserved at least one ‘ _you’re not blind, but you’re definitely an alcoholic slut_.’ Jane didn’t take the chance to call you such. She hesitated, then squared her shoulders before saying: 

“I’m going home.” 

Your stomach felt like you had tumbled down a long set of stairs. “What?” you gasped. “No, but—you said you’d stay while I…settled in.” 

The look she shot you was almost pitying. In the seconds that followed, it occurred to you just how selfish that sounded. Jane had no reason to stay on Asgard, after all. Her supposed best friend had taken all of that away from her. Disgust at yourself rose so quickly you could hardly look at her. Jane had _earned_ everything you had: the loving, gorgeous husband; the chance to be the first to study the Einstein-Rosen phenomenon in person; and the adoration of a confused populace. Like all the good things in your life, you had conned your way there, and this time it was at the cost of someone you cared about. 

Something warm touched your shoulder. You stiffened, only to find that it was Jane’s hand. 

“Listen,” she said, with some of her college-age awkwardness. Even after you made it clear you would, Jane took a few seconds to find the words to say what she wanted to. “It’s—I won’t pretend I’m not upset.” 

“You have every right to be,” you said swiftly. 

“But Thor and I—well, we weren’t a big thing.” 

“Jane—” 

“We weren't!” She laughed nervously. “We knew each other for a few _days_ the last time he was on earth. He was barely back in New Mexico for a _week_ before you showed up. It’s not like we had years of being with each other or anything.” 

You shifted your gaze when Jane appeared in danger crying. A few moments later, she cleared her throat, and you figured it was safe to look up again. 

“Anyway.” Her voice was hoarse and her eyes a little red, but otherwise Jane appeared as determined as she ever did. She dropped her hands to squeeze yours. “He’s a really good guy, [Name].” 

You thought of Thor’s anger when he’d come to bring you to Odin. You thought of his coldness in turning you away. Most of all, you thought of how stiff he’d been when he had kissed you. Tears welled in _your_ eyes as it dawned upon you that you would never kiss (or even _see_ ) someone who truly loved you ever again. 

“He doesn’t seem much like one now, Jane.” 

She squeezed your hands a second time, frowning as she did. “Give him some time.” 

Unable to speak through the constriction in your throat, you sniffled repeatedly as you clumsily squeezed her hands in return. “B-b-but are you sure?” you managed to blubber after a couple of minutes. “You can-can _keep_ him. He doesn’t like me. I don’t care.” 

Jane’s face crumpled. “I’m not that kind of girl.” 

You could only nod. Heimdall politely kept his attention elsewhere. Knowing he would have seen this embarrassing display anywhere it occurred in the universe didn’t exactly help, but you appreciated his attempt at tact. 

“What about the bridge?” you asked shakily, once somewhat recovered. Knowing you were being selfish was not the same as stopping yourself being selfish. Jane was the only friend you had _anywhere_. What would you do without her? 

She seemed to read your mind. “You’ll be fine. I can do my research better with tools I understand back home. I’ll need help, anyway, and Darcy won’t be any as long as Clint’s afoot.” 

A sudden terror seized you. “You’re not taking her with you, are you?” 

Jane shook her head. “I was going to offer, but I couldn’t find her. Promise me you’ll look out for her for me?” 

“I think Darcy can look after herself.” 

Jane gave you a pointed look and you relented, lifting your hands to show defeat. 

“I’ll look after her. Guess it’s my job now.” 

“Damn right it is. And it’s not like this is—” 

Heimdall cleared his throat. “I do not wish to interrupt, but Odin only allowed but a small window for me to open the Bifrost. If you do not hurry, Dr. Foster, that window will close.” 

“Right.” She turned her soft brown eyes on you once more. You swallowed roughly. Wordlessly, you both caught each other in a quick embrace. Then Jane let go to run to the waiting platform, where she beamed at you and waved. “Goodbye!” she called brightly. “Be good. And remember, Thor is just—” 

Whatever Thor was, the rest of Jane’s sentence dissolved in the same flurry of light that had brought you to Asgard in the first place. You blinked, dazzled, and when you could see again, she was gone. Tears stung your eyes. Of all the things you had lost in the past half-year, your best friend might have been the most difficult to handle. 

“You are missed at the palace, your highness,” Heimdall said. You moved your eyes from where Jane had disappeared to his gold eyes. He knew. If he could see as much as he claimed, he knew you’d have preferred to stay with him and cry your heart out—or better, steal that key sword of his and send yourself to some distant place where no one had ever heard of you. The possibility that you could overpower Heimdall (or that he would betray his rulers for a nobody like you) was so laughable that neither of you commented on it. 

“You are stronger than you think,” he said into the stillness, “and Thor is kinder than you believe. If Dr. Foster wishes to return in the future, she need only ask. I will discuss it with the king.” 

You were dismissed, but kindly so. Not wanting to get him in trouble by distracting him further, you nodded, clumsily gathered your Asgardian skirts about you, and strode out onto the bridge toward the city. Who could be looking for you, you wondered. Friga? Darcy? Or Thor? With Jane gone because of you, how could you face him? Better for everyone that you left, too. There were mountains, dark purple shadows that towered over even the palace’s highest points, rising before you. With Heimdall’s abilities, though, how long could you hope to avoid capture? Loki’s company was not so pleasant that you hoped to avail him of it again anytime soon. 

“ _There_ you are!” 

A voice interrupted your wild fantasies of escape—a familiar voice, a voice that caused your stomach to drop for the second time that day. Fandral marched toward you from the direction of the city, and in his wake, tousle-haired and wearing the evening dress you’d spotted her dancing in the night before was— 

“Darcy?” you asked, so stunned by her appearance that Fandral’s hardly made a dent in your already full mind. 

“Hey, [Name],” she answered casually, like this whole situation wasn’t weird. “Where’d you disappear off to? You got the whole place saying you sneaked off to mack on Loki down in the dungeons.” 

Of course. You’d known the man for five minutes and he was locked up, but sure. Why _not_ assume you were lusting after him instead? Sounded like something you would do. Your eyes bore into Darcy’s, but either she couldn’t read the question there, or she did not _want_ to. “Am I not allowed to go for a morning walk in my own kingdom?” you asked, unsure of which one of these two you wanted to answer. 

“Not alone, your highness,” Fandral said with an elaborate bow, and a meaningful look at your abdomen. “You hold the hopes of the throne in your lovely hands.” 

“Speaking of,” Darcy interjected, “how _was_ last night? Is Thor—” 

“We are _not_ talking about this,” you said flatly. Your burning cheeks were not doing you any favors. Your two companions exchanged looks you liked not at all. What would be worse: them thinking you and Thor _had_ consummated your fake marriage, or them knowing you’d both slept in different rooms? Darcy looked very much like she had an innuendo on the tip of her tongue, so you shoved past her on the path before she could speak it. “I’m hungry. If you still want to bother me _after_ breakfast, don’t.” 

“Breakfast?” Darcy echoed. “It’s past noon!” 

You paused to close your eyes. Once again, you’d slept later than you thought. If you weren’t careful, you would slip back into that familiar depression haze, something sure to _not_ impress your new in-laws. 

“I’m the princess,” you said. “ _Someone_ will make me breakfast.” 

Only a few steps took you away from Darcy and Fandral before the latter caught up. “But there’s no _time_. You’re expected!” 

Against your better judgement, you stopped a second time to look at him. “Expected _where_?” 

“Why, our meeting of course! Remember? You agreed to spend some time with myself, Hogun, and Volstagg this afternoon. So that we may all get to know each other.” 

Had you? The horrible kiss shared between yourself and Thor had driven the rest of the previous evening clear out of your head. Either way, such a meeting sounded like the _exact_ opposite of how you wanted to spend your afternoon. “I…can’t. I said I’d meet someone else.” 

“Who?” 

You said the first name that came to mind: “Thor.” 

Fandral’s smile widened momentarily before he began to laugh. Your stormy expression did nothing to put an end to this behavior. 

“What’s so funny?” you demanded. 

“Why, only that you expect me to believe that baldfaced lie! I happen to know that Thor is holed up with his father discussing war strategy—not to mention that he has no interest in you whatsoever, so why should he request your company?” 

“Maybe,” Darcy suggested, “she just wants to get back to him for some more sweet loving.” 

Mortification showed plain on your face, and Fandral caught it. “No, I rather think she wants to avoid our playdate. Here we are, trying to make her feel welcome, and our new princess already wishes to shirk her duties.” 

“I am _not_ shirking any duties. I don’t even _have_ duties!” 

Darcy looked oddly somber. “No, [Name], I think he has a point. You need to work on your image.” She plowed straight through your sputtering reply to add, “As your manager, I highly recommend you go.” 

All of this was far too much to take in. A faint, “manager?” was all you could get out. Seeming to think what you needed most in such a dire time was a pep talk, Darcy linked her elbow through yours and proceeded to drag you back toward the city. 

"Publicist. Image consultant. Manager. All the same thing, really.” 

“Not really.” 

“Face it, you really need to charm these people. That party last night was a disaster. You looked like you were kissing a corpse. No one thinks you really _love_ Thor now.” 

“I _don’t_ love Thor,” you protested. 

“I know. And I also know it’s both of your faults that that kiss was so gross. Unfortunately, Thor’s family and friends already like _him_. _You're_ the one that’s stuck here until you die.” 

“What if I don’t _care_ if they like me?” 

Darcy shrugged as the palace came into view. “You’re what, almost forty?” 

“Hardly. I’m—” 

“So you’ve got another good fifty years going for you. That’s a long time to spend with people who hate you.” 

She had a point, much as you hated to admit it. Did you really want to live happily ever after with your best friend’s ex? Not so much. But Jane was gone, you were stuck, and Thor’s cold goodbye to you the night before sent shivers up your spine even in the warm Asgardian sunlight. 

“Fine,” you said. “I’ll go have a stupid playdate with Fandral.” 

“Terrific!” he cried, causing you to jump. You hadn’t realized he was following so close behind. “Lady Darcy, you are a miracle worker. I’m so impressed that I could kiss you!” 

Fandral got close enough to do so before she shoved him away. “Don’t even think about it, dude,” she said, and all but flounced away at the very next fork in the road. He stared after her in a daze that made you uncomfortable. You had to look away—and as you did, you thought you caught someone in black and purple vanish around a corner far ahead. Your new friend gave you no time to dwell on this, however. 

“She is _intoxicating_ ,” Fandral breathed. 

On what _planet_? “Sure. Are we going to go somewhere, or did you just strong-arm me into sticking around to listen to you wax poetic about my colleague?” 

After a rapid clearing of his throat, he moved on. “Quite right. We are terribly late as it is. Pick up your step, your highness. I’d hate for you to miss this!” 

“What’s ‘this’?” you asked, following along in his wake. 

He turned his head over his shoulder to give you a roguish wink. “It’s a surprise—but I can assure you, it will be spectacular!” 

******

After what felt like _miles_ of walking and avoiding Fandral’s many attempts at striking up a conversation (you kept imagining him in bed with Darcy, a vision so bizarre you struggled to take him seriously), he at last slowed to lead you into one of the lower buildings of Asgard’s grand capitol city. He opened the door with a typical flourish, and you stepped inside to see an arena so massive it dwarfed the two men waiting in its center. 

“You’re late,” Hogun told Fandral as the pair of you drew near. 

Volstagg smiled when he spotted you. “So glad you could make it, Lady [Name].” 

For some reason, Fandral shot him a stern look before replying to Hogun: “Our new princess took some persuading to get her here.” 

Hogun smirked. “Are you using her as an excuse? I stopped by your home this morning, and there was a lot of racket going on. _Midgardian_ racket, if you catch my drift.” 

“I do, in fact, and I will tell you everything later. Let us not waste any more of Lady [Name]’s valuable time. After all, she has a husband to pleasure this evening.” 

This time, your icy gaze got him to shut up. No one laughed. Volstagg, in fact, looked vaguely ashamed of his friend’s behavior. Fandral covered up the sticky moment by striding toward a long, low rack set up at one of the arena’s edges. 

“Tell me, what do you favor, Lady [Name]?” he called over his shoulder. 

“What I favor?” you repeated as he hefted a sword into the air. Seeing this, your concern mounted greatly. “What is it, exactly, that we are doing?” 

“Sparring,” Hogun answered. 

All the color ran from your face. You backed rapidly away from the arena’s center, as though Fandral’s weapon rack might leap across the space to attack you itself. “No,” you said. “No, I don’t think so.” 

Volstagg shot Fandral a look rife with meaning. “I told you that she would not like it.” 

“No one asked you,” Fandral replied. 

“Do they not spar on Midgard?” Hogun asked you. 

“ _Some_ people do,” you spluttered. “But not _me_. I’m a _teacher_ , not a warrior!” 

“Our teachers are warriors as well.” 

“Asgardians _are_ a warrior race,” Fandral said lightly. “You won’t last long if you can’t defend yourself. Royalty or not, there will be plenty of common people that don’t like that you are. It will reflect badly on all of us if our best friend’s wife is dispatched by a peasant.” 

“Now, that’s not fair,” Volstagg broke in. “As her husband, Thor will certainly protect her.” 

Color climbed up the back of your neck. 

Another smirk stretched across Fandral’s face. “If you truly believe that, Lady [Name], you are free to go.” 

The stare off between the two of you went on and on. You thought of Jane and her assurance that Thor was a good man. You thought of Thor’s hard hands on your upper arms when you kissed and the ice in his eyes as he bid you goodnight. You thought of Darcy’s claims that none of your new family, so far from the one you knew, hated you. And you thought of yourself, drunk and whining to a guy you barely knew so incessantly that he had gone out of his way to cheer you up—and ruined his own life in the process. 

One of your hands shot out toward Fandral. “Fine.” 

“That’s the spirit!” 

He approached, and passed you an ax. No sooner had you gripped it and he let go then did the end of it crash to the floor. A tremendous clang echoed through the empty seats, though your mistake made no noticeable impact on the floor. Several seconds of struggling to lift the damn thing while the Warriors Three watched ensued. 

“So,” you groaned, at last lifting the thing tremulously into the air, “which one of you am I,” you gasped for breath, “fighting?” 

“Oh, you’re not fighting _us_ ,” Fandral said cheerfully. “Raise the gates!” 

Despite it looking like no one was inside the building but you, Hogun, Volstagg, and Fandral, _someone_ must have been around to hear the latter’s shout. Without any of them moving, an enormous panel at the end of the floor ground open. Fandral caught your eye, grinning as he settled into an unfamiliar stance. 

“Today, we are all fighting…bilgesnipe!” 

The ground shook. A bellow rattled your eardrums. You looked back at the gate and saw an enormous, green, horned monster barreling in the direction of your little quartet. 

Its bright red eyes remained fixed right on you.


	10. Keep Your Friends at Arm's Length and Your Enemies Farther

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by SpacePineapple5 on Quotev, November 2019 winner of my [Free Monthly Fic Raffle](https://www.quotev.com/StrawChan/journal/5879744/Free-Monthly-Raffle-November-Closed).

The ground shook beneath the monster's wickedly-clawed feet. Your three companions might have stood their ground, save that the beast knocked each of them aside with one swoop of its massive antlers. Shocked, scared, standing all alone in the middle of the room, you could only watch the thing as it stampeded right toward you. Sweat caused your already precarious grip on your ax to slip. Whatever the creature was, it would be upon you in seconds. Already you could see the whites of its bloodshot eyes. You took in an enormous breath, and— 

—dropped the ax, turned around, and ran screaming for the entrance to the arena. Looking back to see how close the monster had come did not occur to you, nor was doing so necessary. Hot, rancid breath washed over the back of your neck. All you could think of was getting away before the beast trampled you underfoot. 

You had never run so fast in your entire life; you’d always left the athletics to your little brothers. In retrospect, perhaps you should have taken up jogging in the mornings with Garrett as he’d suggested. He might still have broken things off; you might still have wound up being chased by an alien monster on a planet ( _realm_ ) you’d never heard of; but at least you might have been able to get across the room without the same painful stitch in your side. What little speed you managed anyway left you without enough time to slow down when at last you saw the exit. After slipping into the smaller alcove, you ran smack into it at top velocity. 

Dazed, your hands slipped clumsily around for any sign of a place to push or pull or turn to get the hell out. Every impact sent out yet another web of sparkling gold: the same solid, invisible something keeping you inside your prison cell before Thor’s mom had come to bail you out. You were trapped. Worse, you could _feel_ something warm and wet against the top of your head. A gulp preceded your slow spin to look at last at your pursuer. 

Its heavy jaws were lined with razor-sharp teeth. These it snapped at you. You squealed as you pressed yourself against the transparent wall as hard as you could. Still it did not give. A long, vibrantly red tongue snaked out of the monster's mouth, reaching for you, spraying you with even more thick, slimy spittle. Apparently, the thing couldn’t _quite_ reach you there, but what good did that do you? How long could you be expected to stand there before the beast managed to get the rest of its mouth around you? 

Just as it seemed to cram itself the few necessary feet deeper into your alcove, its head jerked up and away. Fresh air reached you once more. You breathed a sigh of relief a touch to soon. _Another_ head soon popped up above the creature’s: Fandral’s, and his expression was all too pleased. 

“I’m afraid that wasn’t a very impressive performance, princess!” he called cheerfully, though the creature beneath him continued to buck and growl. “Perhaps on Midgard running away like a coward is an acceptable course of action, but here it is not likely to make you many friends!” 

He seemed firmly lodged on the thing’s back. Instead of bothering to answer him, you took your chance to inch your way out into the larger area. Better to have more room than less, you figured, especially since your closer view of the monster’s claws showed you that their curved ends were stained a suspicious rusty brown. 

Before you could move father away from the fight, more swift footsteps approached. Volstagg appeared, looking neither injured from being hit with horns nor out of breath from his sprint. 

“Lady [Name], are you all right?” he asked you. 

Unfortunately, you remained far too terrified to give him the obvious answer. He must have seen as much, because he looked up at Fandral instead. 

“Perhaps we ought to let her out,” he said. 

Fandral grunted. “You know the rules, Volstagg. No one leaves until we have vanquished our foes!” 

“Then perhaps we could begin the session again with something less difficult than a bilgesnipe? There are better things to start her out with than—” 

“Would you stop doing so much _thinking_ and _ax it in the knees_?” 

Volstagg rolled his eyes, but hefted his own ax into the air all the same. You turned your head away at the last second to avoid seeing him kill the—what was it? Bilgesnipe?—but no splattering sound ever came. Instead, you heard another roar, heard both men cry out before falling suddenly silent, and looked over to find the creature had wheeled over on top of them both, then promptly back to its own feet. The men's tangled limbs twitched once, twice, then fell still. 

You took a few steps toward them, but couldn’t get near enough to ascertain whether or not they were dead. The bilgesnipe snorted; its snot hit you hard enough to sting. Another snap of its jaws sent you flying once more—enough that you only barely registered that its teeth had grazed your arms until you saw the blood dripping from the cuts left behind. It stung only vaguely in comparison to the burning in your chest. 

Perhaps you might have moved a little more quickly had you not been dressed in fine, unfamiliar Asgardian fashion. Your sandals kept catching on the hem of the shimmering fabric. Only desperation kept pushing you back to your feet to continue your desperate flight. Where you were going, even you weren’t entirely sure. The rack of weapons had disappeared to who knew where. Your ax, however, remained precisely where you’d dropped it. You wouldn’t be able to use it in any helpful manner, but something was better than nothing, your frantic thoughts supposed. 

“Where are you—” 

Hogun appeared in your line of sight for only a moment before he vanished somewhere behind you. The bilgesnipe remained in hot pursuit; perhaps it smelled the blood seeping out of your forearm. You didn’t hold out much hope for Hogun helping you anyway. 

Every breath you drew in ached with the effort of keeping ahead of your untimely demise. You gasped for air. Finally, your ax was near—but not close enough for you to simply scoop up. The monster was right behind you. There was nothing for you to do but lunge across the several feet of space between you and the handle. 

You overshot. Of course. Your chest did _not_ land on the blade, thankfully, but the weapon was still dense enough to knock the breath right out of your lungs. Getting back up in time to meet the bilgesnipe was impossible, let alone taking a swing at it! And so you did the only thing you could: curl up into a ball on top of the ax and prepare for your life to end. The thought of dying wasn’t even all that awful then. What did you have to live for? Only more of Darcy getting you into situations like this one. Hopefully Clint would go back to Earth someday and tell your mother why you never came home. The idea of any of the Asgardians taking your body back to her was laughable. 

“Stop laying there and help me,” you heard Hogun say. 

After you unfurled enough to see, you found him fighting the monster several feet away from you. All that terrible noise you’d thought indicated your rapidly approaching end was apparently the two of them going at it much harder than Volstagg and Fandral had. _Those_ two remained in a heap at the far end of the field. Meanwhile, Hogun appeared to be holding his own just fine without any of the help he’d requested from you—or so you thought, until his mace went whizzing across the room to embed itself in one of the walls. _Hogun_ sailed over your head shortly after. 

It was you, your ax, and the gigantic, scaly best. A snort burst from its enormous nostrils as it spun to look at you again. You swallowed, hard. 

What happened next wasn’t something you could easily explain. Somewhere deep inside yourself, something steeled. Yes, you were going to die. Yes, it would be painful. But after _months_ of laying down while bad things trod over you, you were not going to _die_ laying down, too. Hard as it was to ignore your throbbing rib cage, you rolled off your weapon, crawled back to your feet, and lugged the ax into the air. 

Maybe the bilgesnipe's time with Hogun had tired it out, or all of your running had. It moved slowly toward you. The moment stretched from minutes into hours into days. Your muscles trembled harder the longer you had to hold up your ax. Then, all of a sudden, the monster picked up speed, opening its jaws so that you could see right down its throat. What you _intended_ to be a battle cry came out more of a squeak as you swung your weapon upward with all of your might. 

The ax was too heavy. One moment it was in your sweaty palms; the next it was following Hogun’s mace across the room. You stood before the bilgesnipe now with nothing between you and no sign of any of the men getting up to save you before it was too late. 

“Go ahead and then,” you said raggedly, forcing yourself to stand up straight. “Eat me.” 

Your courage unfortunately did not extend to keeping your eyes open to _see_ the eating happen—an undignified end to an entirely undignified life. You waited for the sharp teeth to pierce you, for the heavy jaws to lift your bleeding body into the air. But none of those events happened. Instead, a great commotion came from nearby: grunts, shrieks, audible snapping. You risked cracking open one eyelid to see _something_ green and red flying at you. 

This did not give you enough time to duck. The object slammed into you, and sent you to the ground for the second time in so many minutes. Stars spun above your head for a few minutes before you were able to shake them away and get a better look at just what it was that had bowled you over. Whatever it was, it was _very_ heavy. Smelled bad enough that you could _feel_ the stink inside your mouth, too. Sitting up was a struggle, but once you had managed it, you found the decapitated head of the monster sitting on your chest. 

You couldn’t help screaming again as you shoved the head off you and scrambled to your feet. The screaming intensified when you realized that you were covered in _blood_. Thick, red liquid seeped through the front of the dress that the queen—the only one of your in-laws that tolerated you—had lent you to make you “feel more at home.” 

“Quit shrieking,” snapped a new, aggravated voice. “It’s _dead_. It can’t hurt you anymore.” 

Very, very slowly, your screeching died away. _Sif_ of all people stood, cool as a cucumber, beside the steaming remains of the bilgesnipe. She crossed her arms over her chest. Gore was splattered across her face, but did _she_ care? Apparently not. She stepped over to you without so much as a blink at your current condition. 

“Let me see,” she commanded. Then, before you could ask her just what she wanted to see, she took you by the chin and pulled your face in every angle available. “You do not _look_ overly harmed.” 

Considering everything that had happened in a very short space of time, you supposed you weren’t _physically_ harmed at all. You also supposed Sif wouldn’t care much about the _other_ ways you might be harmed. In the desperate hope of getting her to let your face go, you finally stammered, “I-I’m fine!” 

She didn’t look like she believed you, but a sudden chorus of laughter distracted her enough to release you. Shortly thereafter, Fandral appeared at the scene of the crime. 

“Ah, Lady Sif!” he said with a bow. “Here to ruin our fun again, I see.” 

She whirled on the spot. Fandral flinched at the fierce look on her face, but otherwise looked surprisingly whole for a man that had recently been crushed to the point of incapacitation. Not a hair out of place—though that wouldn’t last long at the rate Sif was advancing on him. 

“You. _Idiot_!” she shouted. 

Fandral jumped, then lifted his head to look down his nose at her. “Pray tell, why have I garnered such an insult from you on this occasion?” 

“You know very well what you’ve done.” 

“I assure you that I do _not_. Since when has a little battle practice been against the rules?” 

“Your silver tongue is no match for Loki’s and I seldom found _him_ convincing. If I hadn’t shown up when I did, [Name] might be dead.” 

So use were you to being spoken about as you weren’t there by then that you didn’t consider being annoyed by it then. You were far too busy shivering and concentrating on not throwing up every time you caught a whiff of the congealing blood on your chest anyway. This still preoccupied you when Volstagg and Hogun joined your trio. 

“She isn’t dead, though,” Fandral said with clear exasperation. 

“She looks fine to me,” Hogun added. 

“I’ve seen you take down an entire _herd_ of bilgesnipes by yourself before,” Sif told him. “I know _exactly_ what you were planning. A bilgesnipe? On her own? At her level?” 

Volstagg tried a very small smile. “We never would have let it kill her, Lady Sif.” 

“ _You._ I expected better of _you_ , Volstagg. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” 

“ _Us_?” Fandral protested. “ _We_ are doing what Thor _wants_. What is it that you think _you’re_ doing that gives you the moral high ground?” 

“Keeping you all from doing something he’ll come to regret. [Name],” she placed a hand on your shoulder, “we ought to have your wound treated before it becomes infected.” 

Wound? Treatment? Infected? They were speaking to you again? You shuddered, then got another good look at the mess that covered you from head to toe. No chance you’d deny Sif’s offer of getting the hell out of there. At least she didn’t seem as likely to throw you in front of another monster. “Okay!” you said, perhaps a little too desperately. 

“I will accompany you to your room.” Volstagg stepped forward, but Sif moved between you before he could offer you his hand. 

“No. _I_ will take her to her quarters. You’ve done enough today. All three of you have. If I find you communicating with her again—” 

“You’ll what?” asked Hogun. 

“Tell Odin? He won’t care,” Fandral said. 

Sif tossed her hair behind her as she leveled a glare at each of the men in turn. “No. But I _will_ tell the queen of your plans, and Thor. We’ll see how much they both like it then, shall we?” 

That was enough to silence the lot of them. She stalked away the direction you had first run from the beast without a second glance behind her. Only Hogun seemed unperturbed by her threat; high indignant color rose in Fandral’s cheeks, while Volstagg hung his head in what appeared to be shame. You opened your mouth to say something, but couldn’t figure out what would live up to what Sif had already said. So, rather than say anything at all, you simply closed your mouth and turned on your heel to run after her. None of them attempted to stop you. 

She had got far ahead by the time you exited the arena. You spotted the back of her dark head already most of the way across a very long bridge boarded by a massive waterfall. Not wanting to be left behind, lest you be coerced into a second round with some horrible, bloodthirsty creature, you sprinted after Sif. A few passing Asgardians cried out as you ran past them. Whether or not these were friendly greetings, shock at your disheveled appearance, or annoyance with your lack of greeting, you no longer cared. Magnanimous was just about the last thing you felt toward Asgardians at that moment, subjects or not. 

Several minutes later, you managed to catch up to Sif—almost. You stumbled on your attempt to touch her shoulder once you neared. Luckily (or not), she heard your collapse right after. She turned in time to see you fall once more. That was for the best, really. Knowing she was looking at you prevented you from starting to cry. 

Still, she must have saw something in your expression that indicated you were about to. “Are you…all right?” she asked. 

The answer, obviously, was a resounding _no_. Anybody with eyes could see that. You might not have known much about Asgardian society, but _no one_ you’d passed during your mad dash to reach Sif had been caked in blood and guts, or had monster slime in their hair, or had bilgesnipe boogers all over their face. Beyond that, you could feel bruises congealing where you’d fallen on your ax; you couldn’t catch your breath; and adrenaline from nearly being eaten was still racing through your system. This might have been the _least_ okay you’d been in your entire life. 

Sif crouched and looked at you with huge eyes. “Are you _dying_?” 

The differences between you could not have been more stark than they were in that moment. Though _she_ had been the one to kill the bilgesnipe, she looked entirely unscathed. Only a spattering of blood across her face—light enough to be freckles, really—showed that she’d recently been in any sort of fight at all. Her clothes weren’t even wrinkled. She could walk faster than you could run, and she wasn’t out of breath at all. 

“No, I am _not_ all right!” you burst out, and jumped to your feet as you did. 

To your surprise, Sif didn’t scowl at your tone. She just nodded. “No, I can’t imagine that you would be. I apologize for my impertinent question.” 

An apology was the last thing you’d expected from anyone on Asgard. She sounded sincere, too. You deflated a little. Perhaps you’d been hoping for a chance to scream at someone. Doing it to the person that had just saved your life didn’t seem like a great way to repay them, though. A short nod was all you offered in response. 

“I should also apologize for the actions of my friends as well,” she went on. “What they did today was not something Thor would approve of, whatever Fandral says to the contrary. We don’t make a habit of hurting visitors to our realm.” 

“You guys have a funny way of showing it.” 

“I suppose that’s true in your case.” 

“I just,” you sighed, “don’t know what I did to make that asshole hate me so much.” 

“Fandral? Or Odin?” 

Her blank expression led you to believe you might _not_ have been risking execution by telling her her ruler was an enormous dick—but after the day you’d had, you weren’t about to risk it. Loki would have had a field day if he heard about what had transpired with the bilgesnipe. “Fandral,” you answered. 

“He…he _can_ be unpleasant sometimes,” Sif confessed, “but he _means_ well. The four of us have seen Thor’s life completely upended over the last few years. Exile, almost losing his father, _actually_ losing his brother. Jane was the one bright spot in his life. They don’t want to see him hurt.” 

“Guess it’s okay to hurt _me_ , though,” you said bitterly. 

“Volstagg meant what he said. They wouldn’t have let you get killed.” 

“Yes, they _would_. They weren’t coming to help me. They were playing dead. If you hadn’t showed up, I’d be bilgesnipe chow. You said as much back there.” 

Even Sif didn’t have an answer for that one. She wanted to defend her friends, you could tell. Hell, you could have _sympathized_ if _you_ had not been the one they had put in such danger. But you had been, so you didn't. 

“Sif,” you said, “what if it happens again?” 

“It won’t. I will speak to Thor. He’ll make sure they’ll behave.” 

“What if he knew about this? Or, okay, _maybe_ he didn’t. He’d still think it was funny. He hates me.” 

“Thor does not hate you. He _might_ think it was funny.” She looked you up and down. “What are you suggesting? Do you want me to ensure you could face a bilgesnipe on your own?” 

“It would be a start. _You_ didn’t laugh at me.” 

“Because it wasn’t funny.” Again, she looked at you, not without sympathy. You forced yourself to gaze back without blinking. She relaxed a little, but not much. “You forget. I’m a woman, too. It is difficult for you to see, new and isolated as you are, but the men here don’t think much of female warriors either. No one took me seriously as one until Thor happened to catch me practicing when we were young.” 

“You impressed him.” 

She shook her head. “I _amused_ him. Everything I became, I owe to his wanting to keep me around. That I am allowed to be a warrior is due to him. But my skills and my devotion are all mine. And so far, I’m one of very few women believed equal—and I have to fight for that equality every day.” 

“Frigga knows how to fight.” 

“She’s the queen. She _must_ know how to fight.” 

“I’ll be queen one day,” you pointed out. It wasn't something you were proud of, but you could see no way out yet. Maybe someday one would arrive. Until then, you didn't want to spend another afternoon getting mauled for _anyone's_ amusement. 

One end of Sif’s mouth quirked up. “That you’ll be. It _would_ behoove me to keep my future queen alive and free from ridicule.“ 

"Thank–” 

Sif held up a hand, palm toward you, all faint traces of mirth gone. “It will be difficult. You are to do exactly what I say exactly when I tell you to. If you complain at all, we are finished, even if you are in the middle of being eaten alive.” 

You gulped. Being eaten was a very real possibility. But what choice did you have? If Sif was around, at least you had a fighting chance. “Deal.” 

“It _is_ a deal.” Suddenly, she smiled in earnest. You realized it was the first time you’d seen her smile. She really was quite stunning. “Tomorrow you shall meet me at the armory before dawn. We’ll find a weapon that suits you, and no one will be the wiser as to our plans.” 

Your relief and fear made it impossible to speak. The most you could manage was a weak nod, which only caused Sif’s smile to widen. 

“Come, your highness. Let us get you to your quarters. Odin would not approve if he saw you in his wife’s dress, looking as though you’d just murdered a man. We wouldn’t want Thor to get an inkling of our plans either, would we?” 

She took you by the arm and pulled you behind her the rest of the way across the bridge. The castle loomed high and bright in the distance. Any number of people might be waiting to ambush you there: Darcy, Clint, Odin, Thor himself. Your heart pounded at the very thought. And yet, for the first time since your arrival on Asgard, you didn’t feel completely wretched—not even stinking as bad as you did. You finally had a plan. You might have even found a friend, or an ally, at the very least. It wasn’t much, but it was more than you’d woke up with that morning.


End file.
